Tally Marks
by Please Tell Me
Summary: Soul has been in love with Maka for as long as he can remember and finds out that she's been dating his best friend behind his back. Wait, what? Teen for swearing and leading sentences. Sort of sequel to Soft Shadows, Tsubaki x Blackstar, Maka x Soul.
1. We Should Ban Mondays

**An: Hey, to everyone who's been waiting, thank you! This is the sort of sequel to Soft Shadows, but really you don't have to read any of it to make it make sense if you're patient, but I do suggest reading the first chapter for the full effect. Please review!**

We're fighting.

I'm not even home yet, and I already know it. I can practically smell it. How long have I been living with her now? Four years? Five? It would be pathetic to say that I ran for the door, so I'll say that I wore off a centimeter of rubber from the heel of my shoe in the last thirty seconds before I collapsed on the couch.

Yeah, that sounds _much_ cooler, Soul.

Tsubaki's voice rings in my head as I hide, flipping through the stations like a coward. _'You're a good friend.' _Her leg was torn apart. I should have stayed, but how do you tell that to a door?

And Blackstar. I want to break something just thinking about that bastard. I'd put up with him calling himself 'god', with him driving every sane girl away from us at any club we went to, but I wouldn't put up with him making out with my meister, my freaking room mate, and then making me feel like shit because I was holding his partner's hand in a completely innocent way. For the seven minutes it took to get to their apartment I didn't want to die in a corner because Maka was lying to me, had been lying to me.

I heard the noise of the fridge door opening and remembered it was my night to cook. Crap. At least it wasn't Blaire's. Aside from the fact that I hated fish, they were always burned to a crisp. She somehow managed to eat all thirty of them, though, and was passed out happily clutching her gluttonous little stomach when me and Maka ordered out half an hour later.

Maka. I was angry at her too. I stared so hard at the truckers on TV shouting into the camera about their expensive engines that I thought my eyes were going to explode. Maybe that was why I felt like we were fighting.

_It's all in your head. _I reassured myself, touching the scar across my chest absentmindedly. After the intensity of Maka's reaction to it, I had been sure… but no. She was Blackstar's. _It's just like those dreams, with the demon. You're making it up. _

Once upon a freaking really nice time ago, Blackstar's still beating heart would have been nailed to my bedroom wall right now while I pulled out his intestines with an acid coated fire poker.

The fridge door slams shut, a not so subtle hint that I was a loser. I haul myself off the couch, bones creaking like the old man I resemble. Yup, and then I fell in love with Maka, started doing whatever she demanded, and also started insulting her so that I wouldn't look like a complete and total jackass when she turned me down and, as a result, I murdered every male on the planet.

Oh, wait. Except for Blackstar. Because I never thought she would have gotten _that_ desperate. As I pull out the ingredients for Philly cheese steaks, I notice that she's just sitting on the kitchen counter, staring at me as she swings her legs back and forth. Long, those incredibly long legs that make my head spin.

I shake my head before I'm completely hypnotized, and slam the raw steak on the counter. Her olive green eyes glare at me, and I cut myself off, sliding the knife through the plastic wrapping covering the steak.

"Aren't you even going to wash your hands?" She says, voice indignant.

God. Help. Me.

I stomp over to the sink because she's right. We were training in the park, and we'll probably all have worms by the end of the week if I don't wash my hands before I cook. An hour and a half of intense training after an already incredibly long and draining day. Sometimes I think Maka doesn't even realize we're seniors. "How late is Blaire working tonight?" I ask, just because I can't take the silence anymore, and Blaire is the only mundane thing I can think of.

The sound of her feet kicking back and forth on the cupboard stops as she leans over to check the calendar by the fridge. "Uhhh…."

I feel only slightly guilty for checking her out as she does this. I also note that, no, I can not keep calling her flat chested in any way, shape or form. Damn. This is going to be a long week. No wonder I always skipped Mondays in grade school.

"Until closing." She finishes, just barely managing to catch her balance as she leans back into her original place on the counter. My eyes are safely back on the steak because I'm not that stupid. Getting Maka chopped straight into both raw steak and a steak knife was not high on my objectives list tonight.

"It's a Monday, so that's, what? One thirty?" I put the steak in the pan, and before I can start looking for a spatula, Maka's putting one in my hand. Oh, geez. When'd she get so close?

_Well, _I think sarcastically, _probably around the same time your brain short circuited._

"Yeah, I think so." I hear the scrape of wood on tile, and I want to rip my hair out, even though I'm pretty sure it's a fire hazard for her to be sitting on the counter in a miniskirt while I'm trying to cook. I hear her sit down on the chair, and the dragging of cloth on wood. "Aren't you going to flip those?"

Oh. Yeah. I'm cooking. I flip the steak, watching it sizzle. I have an entire minute before I can take them out and start with the onions and peppers. If I was a sane person – no scratch that. If Maka hadn't been sitting on the counter, I would have started with the vegetables.

Maka thinks I'm lazy. I just can't get anything done around her.

There's the familiar thudding of books on the kitchen table as I cook and I can relax into it now, knowing that there is no way that even the smallest part of her attention is on me. She's all into… 'homework'. It makes me grin as I slice the sub rolls, and as I lean to put them back I try to just dissolve into the peace of the moment. Maka's breathing at the table, the sound of a page turning, the clank of the fork as I put it down –

And she's not reading a textbook. My jaw tightens. She's looking at a photo album. The pain is so intense that for a second I wonder if I'm having a heart attack.

But that's not it. The air tenses, and I realize that we were fighting all along and we were just too stupid to notice it.

Because sticking out of Maka's jacket pocket is a ticket stub. And I didn't need it, the proof. So I wonder why it makes it that much worse. That much worse than hearing Blaire that morning.

_She stared blankly at the blankets in my hand. "What do you mean, Soul-kun? Those aren't mine. Ask Maka. She's out with Blackstar. She wouldn't even let me help pick out her clothes!"_

_Grab your keys. Tear through the streets. Yeah, you _better _honk, you bastard. What the hell do you mean, you're a cop? Whatever. I don't have time for this. Yeah, yeah. Pound the piece of junk if you want to, you useless excuse for law enforcement. Why is Kid calling me? Tsubaki is missing. Crap._

_Walk. Walk faster. When did I start running? Crying? Tsubaki? God, her leg. It's torn apart. Who did this to her? Her brother. She did it to herself. Of course, I'm an idiot and she's not the only one with brothers. Breathe, forget that you hate Blackstar. Give her your jacket. Hold her hand. Walk her home. Make her smile. _

_That feels… much better. _

_Blackstar's hurt. No. NO. You can't hurt. I'm sorry. It doesn't work that way. I'm just making her feel better, just holding her hand. You can't hurt for that. _

"_Soul?" Tsubaki. Earnest. Blue eyes wide._

"_Yeah?"_

"_You're a good friend."_

I put the plate down so hard that little piece of onion flies up onto our clothes.

"Soul, what the-" Maka yells, picking a piece out of her hair with disdain.

I pull the stub out of her pocket and stare at it, disbelievingly. _The Backup Plan. _Matinee. Cheapskates, both of them. The world turns from white paper to red so slowly that I can barely feel the blood lust building, the black hate filling me.

The stub was from a little over two weeks ago. When Maka was 'spending the day with her dad'. According to her, they spent the entire day camped out at the mall. What was the next time? Liz and Patty in an impromptu girls' day out? And after that? Dinner with Tsubaki, study group at the library, some old friends from middle school.

It's getting harder to think, to breathe, the emotions I've suppressed all day working to fight their way to the front. One tally mark after another, sign after sign I didn't want to see.

I put the stub down, and my vision clears. Except when Maka is there, she isn't Maka anymore. She's someone else. Someone who's lied to me. Who'd seen my soul. Who could destroy me, more completely, more totally than anyone had before.

When my vision cleared, Maka was a threat.


	2. No Brains To Eat

Part Two

I should explain something about me.

Where I grew up, there were no second chances, or allies. There was bone splitting, hand breaking practice hour after hour, day after day. There was one concert, one performance of yours, one person that everyone would go home talking about. And so no one cared very much if you were their little brother, or their youngest son.

In fact, no one gave a damn.

So that's why what happened next wasn't such a surprise. Even if it was Maka. Even if she had made all sorts of promises that no one else had bothered to when she took my hand that first day.

"Get out." My voice is ice cold. Sounds like my pops. Who would have thought?

"What?" Maka squeaks. She doesn't believe it yet. Doesn't want to believe I could have figured it out so fast.

"You lied to me." The ice is melting fast, and I wish it was back, because the fire leaves me open. "You've been dating_ Blackstar _of all people, and you _lied _to me about it. Did you think I wouldn't notice? For weeks, Maka, weeks!"

"Soul, I didn't mean to –" Maka drops the photo album, and Chrona's face is the last thing I see before it hits the floor.

"Didn't mean to what, exactly? Tell me you were visiting your Papa? Got held up at the library?" My voice is sarcastic, bitter. I want to scream the words, throw them in her face. But this is all I can choke through the rage, through the pain.

"Get wasted." She finishes. She's angry now. I can always count on her for a fight. No tears. Just as much anger as my own. Maybe this will fill the hole inside me. Knowing what happened. But she doesn't have a hole, and she's acknowledged me as a threat as well. I shove it away to pick apart later, when I'm not shocked.

Two weeks, two weeks, two weeks… her birthday. Oh, God. She got face down drunk on her birthday while I was off in Holland and all she had for company was Blackstar and Kid. It makes me even angrier, somehow.

"How could you not tell us?" I ask, pressing a hand to the table as I scream the words at her. She has to see it by now. She has to know.

"You would have done this!" She says, gesturing around vaguely.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" I mimic her, swaying my hips crudely as I talk. I stop, dead serious again, and lean forward. "Let me spell it out for you Maka. L. You dated my best friend. i. You did not tell me about it. a. You lied to me about it." I leaned so close that I could hear her furious breathing, see her glassy eyes clearly through the daze. "r. I found out from a fucking cat. That spells LIAR Maka."

Maka sucks a breath in like I drop kicked her in the stomach. "She… promised…" Her face is dazed, expressionless.

The anger starts to seep out of me. What the hell am I doing, anyway? It's her life. Yeah, she lied, but this is getting dangerously close to her finding out about how I feel. And Maka's just standing there like a freaking zombie without any brains to eat. I sigh, and sit down, pulling out my chair. We'll work this out. I can beat the crap out of Blackstar and… we'll have worked it out. Right now, I just really want to eat my sandwich, take a shower, and then go to bed before Blaire gets home and all hell breaks loose again. As endearing as her attempts to push me and Maka closer together by pressing my face as close to her chest as she physically can are, I'm in no mood for it tonight.

"Sit down." I say, waving my hand at her lazily, and the counter seems an awfully long way to go to get her a sandwich. Her movements are mechanical, frozen, as she takes a seat. I sigh, and get her food anyway.

I tear into the sandwich, and bell peppers and onions slide out onto my plate. Too late, I realize that I forgot cheese. Or mayonnaise. I peek at Maka, but she's looking at the sandwich like… well, since we might as well stick with the zombie thing, like she'd ripped off Stein's head and found squirrel brains instead of gushing, hot, runny, human brains.

I shudder at the imagery that accompanies that thought. I needed to stop downloading foreign zombie movies.

But she was still in shock, like, literal shock. I wasn't. I mean, Blaire told – it wasn't that big of a surprise, was it? The thought of Blackstar actually kissing Maka turned the food to dirt in my mouth, and I wished I could spit it out right then. It tasted like grease, and onion, and my spit instead of food. I swallowed it, coughing slightly at the too big chunks as they slid uncomfortably down my throat. It wasn't too unlike the texture of a soul, but without the hollow aftertaste.

I put down the sandwich almost delicately, pinkies out like dear old mom always taught me. Some habits die harder than others, I guess, and I have to force my fingers around it before I set it down on the plate.

Maka's talking, face as blank as before but it's careful this time. Dead in a deliberate way. "I… was so alone. You, Tsubaki, Liz… And Papa left his doors unlocked." She takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "I got really drunk. I thought that you came home, and…"

She trails off, and the silence suffocates me. What? What am I missing? I have to be missing something, because Maka looks shattered. But then it starts to make sense.

"And it wasn't you, it was Blackstar. It – it wasn't his fault, I kind of attacked him." She shifted nervously in her seat.

No. This can not make sense. Not even hammered. Not even hammered, high, and DEAD. Not all of the above and if he was the last man on Earth.

But maybe… just maybe…. If she thought he was me? My heart stops, and I want to scream. This isn't fair. Not like this. She shouldn't have lost it like this, not to Blackstar.

I stand up, slowly. It isn't just a lie anymore. It cuts deeper than that, racing along the length of Chrona's wound. The madness is rising within me and for once I don't care. Anything to make this bone deep ache go away, this impossible pain. "Leave."

Maka stands, face wet. I can't stand it. I'm losing her already. We haven't even graduated and I'm losing her. But it's so much easier than keeping her, and it hurts so much less. "Leave!" I yell, and my voice cracks, high and awkward.

Then she's gone, the sound of the door slamming behind her making me punch the picture of me and Blackstar hanging on the wall so hard that the glass cracks and my knuckles bleed, over and over again. I curl into a corner around my wounds, and when Blaire comes home I don't answer her frantic line of hyper questions. Because she's gone. And I have no one to thank for this but myself.

But wait. There is one other person I could thank. If I wanted to. If I felt like it. Because I've already lost Maka, and this can't hurt any more than that.

Thank you, Blackstar. Truly, deeply. Thank you. Thank you for _everything_ you have done for me.

_An: Please review! Writing Soul is so much easier because we have similar personalities, but so much harder because he's a GUY….the only thing I own is the Philly cheese steaks… wait, nevermind, even that's copyrighted…_


	3. So sue me: We're Cool

Blaire makes me go to the emergency room to get my hand checked out, and the triage nurses give me dirty looks when they see my name. There're more people there then I would have thought, for like one thirty in the morning, and I sit for at least two hours, my hand stinging from the yellow disinfectant that they had dumped on it uncaringly. I shudder, still able to see the glint off the nurse's glasses as she glared at me, sloshing the liquid into the cuts as they took my blood pressure, blood sugar, and put on the hospital bracelet thingy simultaneously. They were probably just pissed that I didn't go here, I reassure myself, rubbing my arm nervously. It wasn't like they wouldn't treat me or anything – old ladies with glasses are supposed to be mattronely. Or something like that, anyway.

My eyes get heavier and heavier, burning until I can't keep them open anymore, and then I just kind of drift for a while. I must have dozed off eventually, and the girl sitting next to me kicks my leg with a vengeance. I startle awake, wiping the drool from the corner of my mouth.

"What the hell?" I snarl in her general direction, eyes fixed ahead in proper emergency waiting room protocol. I huddle further into my deep blue t-shirt, wishing that Blaire had let me grab my jacket at least before we had left and she had abandoned me here, purring something about going home to call around for Maka and eat the rest of my nummy sandwich.

I catch a flash of green out of the corner of my eye, and a quick snatch of red. "It's not cool to drool, dandruff-head." She retorted, throaty voice serious as her black gloved hand, the fingers cut off, flicked me in the ear. The fingernails were picked down to the quick.

I grin despite myself, and turn around to face her, even though I don't really need to. "Shay?""

Her flaming red hair, dropping far below her waist, almost as long as Tsubaki's, flipped behind her shoulders as she nodded. "Good ta see ya, Sharkteeth. Figures it would be in an emergency room." She rolls her deep forest green eyes, eyes I used to lose myself in. To my relief, they're just eyes, in a face, stuck slightly above a pert nose. "Got in a fight with the Rochester girl over Jone, and here we are."

I raised an eyebrow, checking her over as I rubbed my eyes. I noticed the scratches and developing bruises now, but the worst injury seemed to be on her leg, a deep gash on her calf four inches or so long. She held the leg out and away from her, but not like it really hurt, more like she didn't want to get blood on the rest of her clothes. Knowing Shay, that was probably the motivation.

I held up my fist in her general direction, and she wrinkled her nose in that way that always made me want to laugh, mostly because she never realized she was doing such a ladylike thing. "That's nasty, kid. They're gonna be picking glass out until dawn."

I snorted derisively. "Oh, yeah? Well, at least I won't need to get stitches."

She held up her hands in surrender. "Fine, fine. Do whatever you want. Just stop punching picture frames, woulchya? It's hard on all of us."

I slammed back in my chair, my good mood evaporating as quickly as it had come. "What are you even doing this far south? I thought you were still in Maine."

"What, a girl can't come to a city in the middle of the dessert that has no buses or planes to it for no good reason?" She laughed like it was the funniest joke in the world. Well, it kind of was. Then Shay sobered abruptly, and her faux-leather jacketed arm wrapped around my shoulder. "I'm rich now. Richer than either of us ever imagined."

We sat like that for a minute, waiting for either of us to say something. She finally sighed, and moved her arm from around my shoulder, putting her head in her hands, resting her elbows on her thighs. "They're all… dead. All of them. The entire family. Down to the last freaking third cousin twice removed. You know how you get a keeshan egg that works like that sometimes, a vendetta. I was just lucky. The last target. Adopted, not that important." She let out a strangled laugh, and it turned into a sob. I wish I had my jacket, so I could give it to her. God, was I useless. I put my hand on her back, hesitantly, rubbing back and forth. "Hell of a way to find out, huh? Turns out I'm a meister. I've been staying with some family here, trying to wrap my head around it. I just… couldn't stay at home, you know?"

She hides in her hands, instead of looking up at me like Maka would have. The pain comes back harder at that, though it's never really left. It makes me sick. I should be helping her, not thinking about myself. She's one of my oldest friends, from a family with money that goes as far back as mine. Our parents had thought to set us up one day, and honestly, neither one of us would have minded it except it was what _they_ wanted.

"Are you going to go to the DWMA?" I ask. Back to the mundane. Like always.

Shay scrubs her eyes for a few seconds, then sits up, taking a few deep breaths before giving me a grateful glance. "Good idea, Bloody. Best idea I've heard in a week, actually. I've thought about tracking you down, anyway. What class you in? We could swap notes, do each others nails, trade pillows when it gets too boring…"

"Crescent moon." I grin. My old best friend, even if she was a chick.

She pulls out a pink square of paper from her pocket and jots something down on it. "Good. Here's my address, because I'm pretty sure that nurse is for you. I once came in here with my eye literally bubbling and they called someone who bumped their head on a shelf before me."

"Thanks." I say, grabbing it as the nurse calls my name impatiently, almost letting the door shut behind her. "I'll see you on Wednesday, and no later, ok?"

"Taskmaster!" She called after me, as the door slid shut. I grin to myself dippily, even though I wait half an hour for the doctor and then he pulls the glass out without any anesthetic at all because I freak out around needles. Well, mostly because they don't want to get a weapon high _and_ I freak out around needles. Like the black tunnel half transform, wake up covered in gore kind of freak out.

I didn't like going to the dentist as a child?

I whistle to myself on the way out, my hand covered in flesh colored tape and shoved deep in my pocket. My chest still hurts to the point of incapacitation, but I can sort of breathe through the tightness now. It's like when you're wearing something really, really tight. Not unpleasant, not really. It's the pain that bugs me. It almost itches. Then there's the empty spot inside, which is what makes it itch, I'm almost certain. It feels like something reached inside and took out something vital, something I hadn't noticed before. It feels like part of my soul is missing.

I'd stop thinking about this in the fear of becoming obsessed if I didn't know that the second I did I would start to think about Maka. And Blackstar. I take a deep, deep breath. I'm just wandering around the hospital now, looking for the cafeteria so some doctor doesn't pull me over and send me to the psych ward. Without meaning to, I begin repeating every word, every facial expression, pulling the fight apart, looking for any clue that she could have meant anything but what she said. Hell, looking for a clue that I missed something the first time around because I was busy being an idiot.

I pull the chair out to the light purple table, thankful that in Death City the cafeteria was open 24/7 in acknowledgement of the dangerous occupation of most of the citizens.

Maybe I've been spending too much time conscious in class lately, but I think Shay's familiar wavelength had helped me push past the actual idea of Blackstar and Maka _doing it_. I still wanna kill something, yeah, but that thing will be Blackstar, because Shay's right – picture frames aren't helping anyone, me in particular. I run my hand down the familiar scar, the feeling of the permanent stitches that Stein had put in there as a sort of sick joke calming me. Maka had thought Blackstar was me. Yeah, that sorta makes sense. Our hair stuck out in about the same way. About the same height. Hell, if he hadn't had much time to talk before she jumped him, it made sense.

I swallow before I get sick again. And the lying, what would explain the lying? Maka never lied to me about anything. That was always my job. I screwed up, she forgave me for it, I lied, and she said it was ok. I said something I thought was ok, and she beat the living shit out of my head with a book. Well, the lying was easy, really. Maka had never done anything to be ashamed of. Honestly, really ashamed of. She'd done things she _thought_ were horribly guilt inducing – like using the internet to look up the answer to a worksheet, or Stein marking the answer to a test right that should be wrong, and telling her Mama I was a straight A, upstanding student left her collapsed in a little huddle on the couch for days.

I laughed a little at that, and I liked the way it sounded, so I laughed a little longer, just to drag it out. I'm not sure when I choked on it and started dry sobbing, but I kicked my ankle and it stopped, though the bad feeling in my stomach stayed. Maybe I should have let that doctor send me to the psych ward after all.

"Soul?" I hear Maka's voice. Great. I'm way too tired for this. I don't want to fight with her anymore, but she could fight to the Apocalypse on no sleep with minimal rations and still win. I'm not even mad. And she probably heard the weird sob laugh thing.

"Yeah?" I ask. Steady voice. I might come out of this ok yet.

There's the dragging sound of a chair's legs over linoleum, and suddenly she's across the table from me, sliding a crumpled strip of paper at me across the shiny plastic table top. Her hair is loose, and that distracts me – usually it's only loose when she's really stressed out. I pick up the piece of paper, and the waxy crinkled ends where she obviously just worked to tear it with her fingers make me suck my breath in.

Nakatsukasa, Tsubaki. Sex: F. 5/3/94 ER

"What the – what the hell, Maka! You can't just take these off people!" I was vaguely aware that I was standing now, and speaking a little too loudly. "What if they need it for something? We have to get it back on her, now. Come on! Show me where she is!"

Maka grabbed my arm, pulling me back into my seat with a jerk. Despite the fact that I was taller then her she managed it easily, and I noted with jealousy that she had taken a nap. "Shut up, I think you gave the lunch guy a heart attack!" She hissed, tearing Tsubaki's hospital bracelet out of my hand.

"Well, he's in the right place, isn't he?" I sniffed sarcastically. "Seriously, Maka, why is she in the hospital, her leg wasn't _that_ bad, it didn't need stitches or anything. Hell, if I had used my left hand I wouldn't have needed to come to the ER, or if you'd been ho-" I cut off, realizing what I'd just said. I'd gotten so used to sharing everything with Maka, that I hadn't realized until too late that I was going to keep this particular piece of information secret.

"Wait, you had to go to the ER?" Maka slammed her head into the table. "Great, just great. I bet you did something stupid too, like punched a picture. And to top it all off, I have a special lesson with Stein at dawn and you have one with Spirit."

"Holy crap, that's today?" I say.

Maka shifts her head to the side so she's looking at the snack and drink machines, and nods. "Yup."

I sigh, and move my head so that it matches hers because it doesn't seem like a half bad idea. "So what happened with Tsubaki and Blackstar?"

She blew out a deep breath, blowing the hair slowly sliding in front of her face out of her way. "I went over to Tsubaki's after we fought, even though I shouldn't have… I mean, I did just break up with Blackstar today."

"Wait – back up." I say, grabbing the piece of hair that she's now furiously blowing on and tugging on it. "You broke up with him?"

"God, yes. The guilt was tearing me apart, for one thing, and for another… have you met him?" She shuddered, and I tucked it behind her ear. "Anytime anything would get vaguely romantic, he would ruin it."

I sigh. So all the fighting and everything, all that was for absolutely nothing? "So you're telling me that huge fight was for nothing?"

"No, of course it wasn't for nothing! I mean, don't you feel so much better now?" Maka smiled at a vending machine. "I can finally breathe again."

I growled. "Maka."

"Hmm?" Her eyes are closed, blissfully unaware that I want to kill her.

"Oh, nothing, just keep going." I say with a sigh.

"So Tsubaki smuggled me into her room – she had her hair down, it was _really_ cool. Did you know how long it is? It goes down to her thigh, at least." Her voice is starting to slow, and I can hear her drifting off into lalaland. "Then Blackstar explains how we started dating, they have really, really thin walls. And Tsubaki tells him I'm in her room, and she starts screaming. When I got out there, he was freaking out, trying to snap her out of some kind of shock. He calmed her down. Her hand… Her hand was so… The doctors said multiple contusions and they want to get the cast on today, but her fingers were all pressed up together and I could see her bones. I've never seen Blackstar so scared."

Her eyes are still closed, but telling this woke her up. I tilt my head so I can see her face better.

"I called an ambulance the second I saw her hand, and while I was on the phone Tsubaki was trying to calm _him_ down. Then he just left." The disgust is obvious in her voice. "He was freaking out. I think he was scared he was going to hurt her, but I've never seen Tsubaki's soul in so much chaos. She tried to run after him, but she fell and knocked herself out, you know how they have those hardwood floors. I was just glad she didn't break her nose too."

I check my watch. Four thirty. The academy is only fifteen minutes away, but the sun rises early in Nevada. I think Stein would understand if Maka was a little late, especially after the night we've had, but I'm skipping with Spirit completely. 1. He's a creep 's going to need someone, and Blackstar didn't seem like the most reliable person lately.

"What's Tsubaki's room number? I'm skipping my lesson, and first period. I've got some stuff to do." I say, starting to assemble a tray of muffins and drinks that I vaguely remember Blaire suggesting on the never ending walk here, since my hand was too screwed up to drive. Tsubaki really likes muffins, I know, from the times that we had all been at a party together. She headed straight for whatever muffin/cupcake objects there were, and devoured them with an uncharacteristic glee. It always made me want to laugh.

Maka's eyes open slowly, and she sits up quickly, bones cracking. "Huh? 301. I think. What's the time?"

"Four twenty." I fib, and she gently karate chops the top of my head.

"Liar." She grins at me. "Like I can't check your watch for myself."

I sniff indignantly. "Yeah, whatever. Then why'd you need to ask me?" I wanted to talk to my meister, so sue me. She could handle one tardy on her freaking spotless record.

She doesn't try to hug me or any of that sappy crap as she walks out the door, and I don't apologize for trying to make her late for the crazy scientist.

But we're cool.

**An:**_ Hey! Thank you to all the people who reviewed on the last chapter to date: OWLZ, Sergeant Daniel, and eternalbeauty565! If I ever come into possession of Soul Eater… you guys will be the first to know._

_Reviews are to me as chocolate eggs are to the Easter bunny. Would _you_ starve the Easter bunny?_


	4. Little Sister

I shuffle my way to the elevator, punching the button with my elbow as I try not to drop the tray. I had about three bazillion blueberry muffins and pomegranate drinks, which were actually really good. I wait impatiently for the doors to open, kicking the tan carpeting, another bad habit I should probably break. How do you juice a pomegranate anyway? All those freaking tiny seeds I could never eat because I would end up biting my tongue and bleeding all over except the maid would say that it was just the juice and slap me when my mom wasn't looking. Then my mom would slap me when the maid wasn't looking for lying, and my dad would punch me in front of everyone for breathing, which made him my favorite parent for a couple of minutes until he punched me again for smiling.

The doors finally start to open and I step out of the way, waiting for anyone to get out first who needs to get out. Of course, it's empty, and there's a streak of blue hair on my left that gives me whiplash as I try to follow, spinning my head into the elevator. I step in after the teal haired bastard that I now recognize as my best friend, and wonder why he's pressed against the wall like he's getting patted down by the police. I haven't even threatened him yet.

I want to lunge at him, but there's something blocking me, red plastic and cooked dough and black wrappers. What is it? Muffins? What the hell is so important about muffins? Tsubaki. Riiiiiight. If I kill him now, it would hurt her feelings, and that would not be cool at all. So all I had to do was stand in an elevator for two floors and not think about how he lied, or did my room mate when she was drunk and defenseless, and God it's been a long time since my knuckles have turned that white.

What is he _doing_ over there? I peer over his shoulder, glancing quickly at the forms he's filling out. Name, date of birth, Social Security, routine stuff. But it's what's at the top that catches my attention. Form #6113. Everyone knows that form number. Form #6112, the form you have to fill out to initiate a partnership, can be declared null and void with a copy of #6113 as long as one partner fills it out and both sign.

"Holy _shit_, Blackstar, what do you think you're doing?" I practically scream in his ear, and he flinches, the pencil in his hand shattering. I hope it hurt like hell.

"I have to." He said, trying to salvage the pencil – it looked like someone had stripped the coloring off with their fingernails.

"Besides the fact that no one else would put up with your crazy ass shit," I spit out bitterly, pressing onto the other side of the elevator so that I don't hit him and wreck Tsubaki's food. "Tsubaki can't handle this right now. She's already seeing stars over crap, you saw her leg."

Blackstar winced again, pulling out a longer splinter, the skin bubbling slightly where the wood had been. "You think I don't know that, Soul? _I _broke _her_ hand. She didn't do that to herself. I lost my temper and I went to push her hand off my shoulder and I _broke _it. What if I get angry at her next time?"

"Do you think that _matters_ to her? Do you think any of that will matter to her when you pull a 6113 on her? She's gonna think it's her fault!" The doors dinged open a while ago, but neither of us care.

"But it's not!"

"Your _point_? Huh? What if I did that to Maka? How do you think she would take it?" I lean in closer to him, practically spitting in his face, teeth bared. "You've gotten the chance to know her sooooo well these past couple of weeks and all."

I pull back and storm into the hallway well his face is still as empty as his skull, looking for Tsubaki's room. I focus on the tray on the off chance she's conscious, so I don't go in looking like homicidal nutcase. I feel Blackstar coming in close behind me, catching the door, and I hear him shoving the papers in the pocket of his hoodie. He really had fallen far in one night – he used to always scream about how a God did not need such things as jackets. Tsubaki takes the hospital tray from me, grasping the red plastic in her left hand, and gently herding me toward the only chair as she talks, her soft voice filling the silence.

"I thought you would have been at school." She sets the tray down on the bed and starts messing with her hospital gown, smiling at Blackstar.

I laugh. School. Right. That's where I was supposed to go after this. "No, Kid is getting our homework for us." Partially true. I was skipping, so he was getting homework for Blackstar, like he always did when anyone was sick or out on a mission or whatever. "Maka had a special lesson with Stein, so she had to go back early, but I skipped mine with Spirit. I only have first period off, so I have to be going pretty soon." Well, I think as I pull out a head band and push it into my hair with none of my usual carefully planned grace and style, I did tell Maka I was only skipping first period so that's how long she'll cover for me, _if_ she covers for me. "The doctors said that you broke your fingers had 'multiple cun-too-zi-uns' and they want to put on the cast later today." I'm pretty sure I failed at sounding out the word that Maka used for broken fingers, but whatever. It sounds more scientific and accurate then anything else my tired brain could come up with.

She nods, looking a little disappointed, or maybe sad. "Ok." I wouldn't want to be alone with Blackstar all day either, unless it meant I could kill him.

I remember the form, and Shay's address in my pocket suddenly weighs a thousand pounds. I force myself to smile at her, and say, "I brought some muffins and drinks up for you and Blackstar. Blaire said that these are supposed to be really, um, 'nummy'." I vaguely remember that now, and it's getting stronger." I also have the advance copy of the new training schedule at the weapon's gym because I'm just cool like that." The guilt shoves up at my throat, and I have to push it away because I know it's for her own good, even though I'm lying out both ears and my ass today. I pull Shay's address out of my pocket and keep the grin, heading towards her and slipping it into her hand. I grab her in a surprise attack hug, and note with a surprise that hospital gowns are open in the back. The hug makes me feel a bit less guilty, and a whole lot better, like holding her hand had. "Take care of yourself." I whisper, and I mean it, every word, with a sincerity that hits chick flick proportions.

I shoot out of there fast after that, making funny faces at her as I go, lolling my tongue and rolling my eyes, pulling my lips in a tight clown smile with my fingers. She pulls out a giggle that sounds too off to be fake, and I frown when I leave the room, though I'd rather smile because I made her laugh.

I just left the closest thing I had to a little sister with Blackstar.

What the hell was wrong with me?

_An: Sorry it's so short, been really busy lately! Question: I'm just about caught up to Soft Shadows (This story but in Tsubaki's pov) I did – if I continued writing that would you read it? Say aaaaaaargh in your review if yes! (Number of a's optional.)_


	5. Why We Don't Take Naps

Everything. I decide, slumping down the side of the DWMA. Everything was wrong with me.

I was so tired I couldn't see straight, my vision blurring with black floaters, webbing their way across my eyelids. Crap. I'd been transforming too much lately, for practice – God, the neverending _practice _– and actual missions, and it was starting to take its toll on me.

I force the lids back up with my fingers, and try to push myself back up the side of the building, but it seems like so _much effort_ for so little payoff – who cared if I skipped one day of school to sleep in the nice, warm, sun on the nice, soft cobblestone? I'd done worse. I'd lost fights, yelled at my meister, I'd left whats-her-name with that guy I hate...

The world was orange, and red, and yellow. It was hot. And then I was lying on the grass, watching the bright green stalks swish back and forth softly in front of me in the steamy breeze. It looked much too cool for the heat that surrounded me. Something hit me in the back, and I jerked reflexively, rolling onto my hands.

"Good. You're up." It was Blackstar's voice, sneering. It hit me like a lightning bolt, and I could remember everything that happened. And all I had wanted to do was stare at the freaking grass.

No one was here to stop me from beating him up now. I crouched and then leaped for him, but he wasn't there, he was behind me. I spun again, and something hard hit me in the back of the neck, but not a real **hard**, just a kind of pressure, sending me flying into a white light.

I grasped desperately for something, anything in the light, but there was nothing. I was more alone then I had ever been. Than in the huge house, where I could at least ring a maid anytime I wanted to for whatever lame excuse for the reassurance that I wasn't the last person left alive, that everyone else hadn't somehow dissapeared when I hadn't been looking. Than when me and Maka fought, and the anger and frustration that I couldn't explain to her because I barely understood and putting it into words would make us all sound like asshats. The light shoved its way up my nose and wormed into my ears and inbetween my toes and all other crevices and cracks in my body, making me squirm.

"What – the – hell?" I forced out through the light, choking on it as it shoved its way down my throat. It was like drowning, but the exact opposite. I felt... bleached. Purified.

"Maka... chop." The gentle thud tapped my skull, and I opened my eyes warily. It was night time, in the park where me and Maka usually practiced. I could see the matienance shed, and the moon was somehow... bland? It glowed with the same eerie white light that had surrounded me, but only slightly, and it was bluish. It was like the moon had died. I shuddered, and turned around to face Maka.

She was wearing a red bikini with small white souls all over it. She had chopped me with a book that she tossed onto a woven beach chair next to her, grabbing my hand. "Come on Soul, let's swim! You've earned it, after going through the light, even if you are the only person who's possible last words were swearing for no apparent reason." She rolled her eyes before pulling me to the edge of the gleaming water of a huge pool that stretched for as far as I could see.

"Woah." I breathed, staring at her. The creepy, dead moon's light cast her face into shadows as she surveyed the almost ocean proudly.

"I know, right? I designed it!" She added proudly.

Be a man, Soul. Tell her how you feel. "Not that, I meant..." I brushed a piece of hair away from her face. "I meant, wow."

Wait, it came out? What the hell are you doing? Take it back! Shove her in the pool! Anything!

She blushed. "I-"

A tan arm snaked up her waist, pulling her away from me. "I'm with Blackstar." Maka finished, arms wrapped around Blackstar happily. "You know that, Soul." The bikini morphed into a wedding dress, and Blackstar chuckled as he straightened the tie on his tux.

"Wanna be my best man?" He asked, leaning forward tauntingly.

"Soul! Soul!" Something was shaking my shoulder. Oh, God, make it stop. Just go away and make it stop. I have to kill Blackstar. And sleep. "Wake up already!"

"What?" I moaned, shoving the nuisance off me with a third of my strength. I heard a thud as they landed maybe a foot away. I opened my eyes, which were crusted with dirt and that weird eye crap you get when you sleep. "What is so important that it can not wait until I die?"

"It's lunch break, idiot!" Maka said, dusting off her butt, and yet still not managing to flash me as she stood up. She must practice, or something. "How did you fall asleep _outside_ of the school?" She asked, grumpily.

I did just shove her, and she had been up as long as me, but still. That little bit of sleep had not been enough, not with that dream it hadn't. "Just get me some food, would y0u?"

"I already ate." She sounded so pleased with herself too. "And Stein said that if he catches anyone sleeping in his class from now on he's going to cut off our left sleeve, and for Blackstar he's going to take his shoe and sock."

"Greeeeat." I slam my head back against the wall of the DWMA. "Any other of that great, extra special news you like to tell me when I just woke up and am PRONE TO KILL YOU!"

"Oh, you wouldn't do that, you love me too much. I _am_ your meister." Maka said with a grin, flouncing off to finally get me some food.

And, no.

She did not happen to flash.

_An: Ok, working on a lot of stuff at the same time, sorry for the lateness! __ The psycho-babble is a dream sequence, just to clarify. _


	6. When Did I Get So Gay?

Part Six

"What? What did I ever do to _you_, of all people?" I beg, desperately trying to uncurl the iron grip on my collar.

"Shut up, this is happening whether or not you want it to." My captor's voice informed me gleefully as they began dragging me through the halls. Why hadn't I stayed for the lesson with Spirit like I was supposed to? All I would have to do was deal with some severe insanity and the knowledge that he could legally almost kill me for living under the same roof as Maka and later claim it was a 'training accident'.

"But - but - _why_?" I ask again, frustrated. I can't come up with a better question.

We stop at a door, and they struggle to get it open without releasing me. I lunge for my chance at freedom, screaming a victory cry when the grip on me evaporates.

And then Liz has my shoe and I'm being dragged across the cobblestones.

"It's necessary because you showed up looking like a hobo today! You need a makeover, alright, Soul?" she huffs indignantly. "Honestly, I've put up with so much from you already, this is the last straw. Wearing your name, headbands, hair bands - what is _your problem_? And frankly, your sense of color coordination sucks." She continued, dragging me around the very loooooong route to the very small parking lot the DWMA keeps in the back of the building.

I mean, most students don't own cars - who has time for a freaking _job_? - and are in walking distance anyway. The fact that I have a motorcycle is sheer luck - I wasn't taking anything from my family when I went here, and Shay's family got duplicates by accident and didn't feel like doing the paperwork because it was in Dutch. I don't even have that anymore, I consider stupidly as Liz continually drags me with the upper arm strength of a caveman. It got pounded because I mouthed off to a cop. Yet another thing I could think about when I beat the crap out of Blackstar.

I frown. How exactly am I going to pull that off? As much as I hate to admit it, he's better than me. Way better. Training since, like infancy will do that, the self absorbed freak.

The continuous stone burn through my shirt stops, and I glance up questioningly at Liz. "Here we are. Isn't he beautiful?"

"She." I glare blankly at her. "Cars, ships and bikes are she's."

"But look at it," She said, running a hand over something out of my field of vision. "It's so obviously a _him_."

I sat up, propping myself up on my elbow and wishing she would let go of my foot already. When I finally saw the car, I was floored, literally.

How dare she own something so gorgeous.

It was red, and shiny, and so obviously a convertible chick car it made me want to puke. She was not only going to drive me around in that beautiful monstrosity, but she was going to buy me clothes in it.

She let go of my foot after grabbing my shoulder, the pressure of her fingers trying to dislocate my shoulder blade from whatever it was previously unassumingly attached to distracting me from an escape attempt. "God, Liz, when did you get so strong?" I burst out as she stuffs me into the side of her car, humming an Avril Lavigne song to herself quietly.

"Huh?" She replied as she assessed the car, decided not to leave me to go around to her side, and gripped the top of my door securely before vaulting into her seat.

"That's what I'm talking about." I fume, a little peeved. "You're like freaking wonder woman all of a sudden."

"I have no idea what you're talking about." She said, face blank as she started the car. "Do you need help with your harness?"

What the hell? Harness? I glance down, seeing that there was indeed a harness, like the kind you get on a rollercoaster, with a big buckle in the front, but thinner straps and somehow… stylish.

"Uh…" I stutter. A harness. She has. A. Harness.

"I got the car from Kid for my birthday last year." She said with a laugh, no doubt at my face, reaching over to buckle me in like a little kid or a dog or something. "I think he just got sick of driving me around to stores and stuff, since I never put the bags in right and then we'd have a fight about it, and…" She rolled her eyes. "All done! Anyway, you know how he is. He had it custom made, the car I mean. But he can't even look at the engine without getting all depressed and crap."

"What?" I said, dazed from the flow of information that was Liz. How did Maka hang out with her? It was like she was talking another language or something, her bright lipstick covered mouth was moving so fast.

"You know, not perfectly symmetrical, not even close. He took a sledgehammer to it once." She buckled herself in with a sigh and then put the car in reverse, backing out carefully. I wondered vaguely when, exactly, she'd gotten her driver's license. "So I have to change the oil and hotwire it when Patty or Lord Death hides the keys." She looked a little sad at that, but fond too. I wondered if she was just upset about her manicure getting messed up, or if she had wanted to watch Kid work on the car or some stupid girl thing like that.

I shook my head. Liz. Girly-girl, obsessive matchmaker, Liz. We forgot that she grew up on the streets and was a hardcore mugger sometimes. At least I knew why she was freakishly strong now.

"So the team will work on your hair and skin, the basics, while I check out clothes." She said.

"Wait, back up." I held up a hand. The wind blew back my hair as she pulled onto the main stretch of road, heading for the mall. "What team? It's just you!" Now I was not only stuck with a freakishly strong girl who was obsessed with giving me a makeover, but with a crazy _still_ freakishly strong girl who was obsessed with giving me a makeover.

"Oh, you have to meet her!" Liz gushed, eyes sparkling as she turned left where she should have turned right to go the mall. "She's awesome!"

"Liz, you made a wrong turn. The mall is that way." I said, pointing directly behind us.

"What the hell are you talking about? I never said anything about going to the mall. I'm dropping you off at her house and then going shopping. When I showed her some pictures of you, she agreed to help fund it." Liz poked the side of my head warily. "First thing you're going to do is get a shower. You've actually managed to beat your hair into submission."

I touch my head, noting with surprise that it is flat. I must have slept on it weird or something. I wondered why Maka hadn't said anything. Liz rolls to a stop at a stop sign, tapping the brake repeatedly.

"You know you don't have to do it like that, right?" I ask her. "It's hard on the car, and it doesn't work."

Liz glared at me slowly out of the corner of her eye. "That's how Kid said to do it. Eight taps."

"You took driving lessons from Kid?" God. No wonder. "Look, just tap, like, twice like that and then bring it down slowly it works way better."

I had no idea what I was talking about from years of experience, persay, but I had driven a couple of times. Illegally. Or underage, whatever. Either way, the car hadn't crashed, and Shay's older brother hadn't minded _too_ much when we promised not to tell about him dating a middle class.

Aah, elementary school.

Liz regarded me suspiciously, but tried it. My early joyriding technique was apparently useful, and we pulled into a driveway thirty seconds or so later, not even coming close to hitting the other car parked there. The fact that the rear end of her car was sticking out in the street meant nothing to me. I hopped out, surveying the area as Liz struggled to pull in right.

The house was small, a faded shade of yellow paint that cracked around the window frames. The trim was bright purple, only half finished with an old white paint showing where it hadn't been repainted. A can of paint stood by the doorway, and a paintbrush sat by it.

"Ok. I'm leaving you here! She'll be out in no time, I'm sure, just wait here!" Liz finally yelled to me, frustrated with the tiny gravel driveway.

"Wait, Liz don't -" I yelled as she pulled out. Great. I watched the chick car drive away, leaving me with nothing to do in the middle of a stranger's yard. At least they would recognize me - Liz had shown them pictures in her freakout frenzy.

Speaking of which, if they ever came out. I sighed, deeply. This could take forever. The sun beat down on me, making me sweat. I stepped closer to the doorway, under the little awning thing it had for protection. There. Now I was completely and totally useless.

I glanced down at the can of paint. I could always finish the trim for this mysterious friend of Liz's. Maybe she would even spare me the makeover if I did enough work.

Ha. "There's a funny thought." I grunted, crouching to pick up the paintbrush and pry off the cover of the paint. I pause, seeing my shirt leaning dangerously close to the purple liquid. I picture Maka's face… when she saw my shirt, covered in purple blotches plus the dirt stains, and shudder. No way. Not in this lifetime. I stand up, quickly, looking for some place I can stick it when I take it off. I look up, slowly, a smile spreading at the genius of the idea. I strip off the shirt quickly, then shove it on top of the cloth awning, stretching and hopping to make it.

I am so tired that this all seems like a great idea, mostly because it will keep me conscious. I start humming the same tune that Liz was, the Avril Lavigne song. I pick up the paintbrush, dip it in, and then run it around the inside of the metal rim to rub off the excess. The words start to come back to me as I carefully stroke the brush across the top of the doorway, since the door has been literally halfway done. I sing quietly to myself, wondering where that girl is but not really caring. This is peaceful.

"…she wants to go home, but nobody's home, it's where she lies, broken inside." I stop singing and rest my face against the door. Yeah, this is real peaceful. I wonder how Maka really feels. I know, now, that I was just too tired and too much of an idiot to see what she was really saying in the hospital, and still am.

"Hey, Bloody. Didn't know _you_ had a thing for Avril." Shay's familiar voice assaults me and I do that little laugh thing that could just be breathing. "Or painting."

There's a thump as she rests her head on the door next to mine, and I'm glad it's a big door. "Hey." I say, face still mashed against her door. She knows Liz. Go figure.

"Who broke your heart?" She asks, shoving my shoulder gently. Her red hair itches where it hits my body, and I move over slightly, trying to get out of its range before I realize I'd have to move to Antarctica and give up.

"Maka." I mutter. She's probably the only one who'd be able to get that out of me, even though I knew she was just joking.

"Well, who needs her, huh?" Shay asked, green eyes soft as her voice.

"Me, that's who." I laugh harshly. "She's my meister."

Shay shook her head. "Come out back. I'll hose you down and we can take turns talking about how awful our lives are before Liz gets back."

I grin halfheartedly. "Yeah. I guess."

I push myself off the doorframe and she punches my shoulder in what was meant to be a joking manner, but shoves me against the door again. I drop the paintbrush into the can and shake my head, watching her walk. She's wearing dark blue jean short-shorts and an overly big t-shirt tied off at the waist, and I feel absolutely nothing besides relief that I can spill my guts to my best friend.

I shake my head and follow her into the backyard. When did I get so… _gay_?

_An: Sorry for the wait! Review if you think Soul is NOT gay._


	7. Unexpected Arrivals

Part Seven

"Come on, give me a hint." Shay begged, bending over to twist the hose nozzle thing. I'm sitting on the grass instead of one of the couple lawn chairs scattered around, feeling the sun bake my skin into a million pieces and wishing I'd put on some sun screen. I may not be a full albino - I mean, what kind of freaking albino has is _tan_? - like most people assume when they see me, but I burn easily. Blackstar used to make fun of me because I had to spend half an hour slathering on special medicated cream before I could go outside almost like some kind of medieval chick, obsessing over my skin tone. I shade my eyes, watching Shay, and wonder how hot it is. Over a hundred? Way too hot for April.

"What are we talking about again?" I tease, voice scratching out of my throat painfully.

Shay crosses her arms with a huff, water barely dribbling out of the hose even though she has it turned all the way up. I follow the line of the hose with my eyes, and find the problem in the tangled scaly green coils. "Screw you, I was going to let you off easy and everything."

I laugh disbelievingly, and she keeps her face stern before breaking down and joining me. Yes, Shay, talking about my virginity - or for all you know, lack of it - is letting me off easy. Truth or dare, a wonderful and potentially life threateningly humiliating game for all ages.

Shay twists off the power on the hose and drags the hideously coiled mess up to me after disconnecting it from the pump-thingy, dropping it by my feet. I pull myself up from my almost lying down position, propped up on the heels of my hands with my legs spread wide, and sit criss-cross-apple-sauce like Shay, who plopped herself next to me. I start picking up one end of the hose, and it's heavier than I expected, even as we silently start undoing the knots.

"So. This Maka chick." Shay said, voice gentle, careful, the tact in her tone making up for her words. "Do I need to kick her ass?"

I shake my head quickly. The last thing I need is a misguided vendetta. "No. No. It's… it's a lot more complicated than that." I breathe in deeply, breathe out. The grass is cool on my feet, and I pause in untangling the hose to roll up my jeans as I talk, so I have an excuse not to look at her. "Two weeks or so ago, a little more now, I guess, most of us had to go on a training exercise - the gang, you know? And she got left with Blackstar and Kid." My voice is calm, even, but I know Shay sees how I jerk up my pant leg maybe an extra two inches on Blackstar's name. "It was her birthday. Her fucking birthday." I growl, and I can't breathe to talk anymore.

Blackstar. My best friend. I'd loved him like a brother, like the brother I hadn't ever had (at least not one that wanted me), for years. I'd been loyal to him, decided that he was one of the people that I was loyal to. Why had he left me? Why had _he left me_?

Something so cold it burns touches my shoulder, and I know without looking it's Shay's hand. She'd always had ridiculously cold hands, even in the summer. I try to relax my shoulders into a less painful position, and uncurl my fingers from around the new cuff I had made for my jeans, at maybe mid thigh of my left leg, and start on the next one, continuing to talk.

"She stole some alcohol, got really drunk, thought I came home. It wasn't me." I don't want to say it, say his name. That will make this real. I haven't even worked out how I'm going to deal with it.

Shay is silent. She isn't going to let me off, either. She knows how I work, as well as anyone not hearing this twisted heap of crap could.

But it isn't _real_ yet. Maka hasn't slept with him, she hasn't screwed everything up, she hasn't done _anything wrong_, I haven't lost my friend, until I say his name.

"It was Blackstar." I say, and all the energy leaves my body. When I open my mouth again, I'm speaking in a whisper, and Shay wraps her cold, cold arms around my neck, comforting me the only way she knows how, face parrallel to mine. "Two weeks. It took me two weeks, Shay. Why am I such a screw up? Why didn't I see it? Why can't I do anything _now_?"

"Soul," Shay whispered back, voice almost painful. I don't want to hear whatever comes after my name, and I just hold up a hand, trying to figure out why my body's shaking, why my face is wet. Oh. Duh. I'm crying. Very cool, man, why don't you just hug a bunny and wear a dress or something? "Soul."

She continued like my hand wasn't even trying to stop her. I guess that I should get right on that crossdressing-bunny issue after all, I think half seriously, clutching the pain racing through the scar on my chest as I sob as quietly as I can. Why does it hurt?

"Remember when we were little, and someone in your family would hit you? I used to hate that. They pretended I wasn't even there, and did it anyway. But you… you just took it. You just took whatever they handed you." Shay's voice cracked and when I slide my eyes sideways I can see that she's crying, too. Stupid girl, crying over such an old memory. "It was later that you broke down, sometimes to me, but I know most of the time by yourself or into your music, which is why they hated it so much. It was pained, terrible, the most twisted beautiful thing I ever heard."

What is she saying? She sounds like Maka, except she should know better. She's not music deaf. The things I wrote, the things I write, are wretched. And this has nothing at all to do with what we were talking about. But as she talks, I can seal myself up again, gulping in the air my lungs so desperately need to calm the tears.

"You don't deal with whatever the fuck is bothering you right away, Soul. You deal with it a little bit, the little bit that you need to get rid of to survive." Shay's eyes are glazed over with tears, and I can't understand why _she's_ crying. "Then you do this, you break down when you think you're safe and then you seal it back up and then you do it over and over again. And I'm so sick of it!" She yelled the last part, making me jerk my head away from her mouth, but she held me there. "I'm sick of seeing you hurt for people who aren't worth it."

I shake my head, hitting her in the process. "No one's ever good enough for me by your standards, Shay." I wipe away the last of the tears, glad they're back inside, safe and so far away that I couldn't get to them if I wanted to.

Shay's jaw tenses, her super pale skin, almost vampire pale standing out starkly next to my dirt covered olive shade. "No. Because they do shit like this to you. I want you to be… safe. Is that wrong?" She asks me, still angry, placing her hand on my chest. "Like hell you got this ice skating. I bet it was Maka's fault."

My back goes ramrod straight. "I made the decision to transform. She didn't want to use me to protect herself, because she knew I would get hurt!"

"Who took the mission?" Shay grasps, looking for any type of blame.

But she can't know. She can't know that Maka wanted to go into the church, even though she thought something was wrong with it. She's just digging for some way to make Maka the bad guy, but it still hurts, with a slow, cold burn, deep in my chest.

I close my eyes. "It doesn't matter, okay? I did what I had to, she did what she had to, and we both got out of there alive."

Shay drops the topic, hand dragging back up my chest to join her right hand on my shoulder lazily. Her eyes are still uncomfortably full of tears, making them look glossy and feverish as she spaces out, alternately smiling and frowning at the back of the house.

"I'm sorry." She finally says.

"What for?" I ask cluelessly.

She breathes out heavily. "Really? I'm sorry I insulted your meister. It was… uncalled for. Even all considered."

"Just because I… love her," I say, and it feels good, like letting an enormous secret off my chest even though she already knew. "Doesn't mean you have to be careful not to step on my toes. I wasn't with any of your bo-"

"Soul?" Blackstar asks, face shocked, stepping around the corner of the house. I can suddenly feel every fiber of cotton in the weave of Shay's shirt, every strand of hair on her arms where they're wrapped around my bare shoulders, the soft tickle of her scarlet mane where her head rests on my left shoulder.

But mostly I can see two scenes in my head, one from earlier that day, myself handing Tsubaki the 'new schedule for the weapon's gym', really just Shay's address on a scribbled piece of pink paper after finding out she was a meister and Blackstar was going to leave Tsubaki.

The other one I see is much more recent, and much more incriminating.

"_Sorry I insulted your meister…."_

"_Just because I love her, doesn't mean you have to be careful not to step on my toes." I give a small grin, thinking, it's not like anyone gives a fuck what my toes feel anyway. _

_**AN: Please review! I'm fairly unsure about this chapter, but they should be coming out faster now as long as I can find the time to write them. **__**J So here's to hope, and getting our toes stepped on!**_


	8. Just One More Time

Once, when I was eleven or twelve, Wes locked me in a closet. He loved the way my scream sounded, especially when I was scared. He loved being in the spotlight more, and we had a talk, man to retard locked in a closet, while I was in there. That was the year I decided to go to the Academy, to stop playing professionally. I can't say anyone but Shay minded.

Blackstar was like the sky. Unbelievably big and overwhelming to look at and be with, the complete opposite of the closet, of my stodgy acquaintances back home. So I was friends with him.

That's all I can think of when I see his face. I don't know why I'm not focusing on how much I want to kill him, or Maka, or something that makes sense. Maybe it's because suddenly Shay is wrapped around my body like she wants a piggy back ride, and I have to lean forwards on my hands so I don't fall, her weight unbalancing me.

"What the hell, Shay?" I hiss, my blood pressure rising for some very different reasons, one of them that will most definitely have me being examined by a coroner by tomorrow morning if Shay figures it out.

Shay puts her head on top of mine, wrapping her arms and legs more securely around my chest. She's only five five, but she acts like she's thirty feet tall and made of steel. "Look, normally I'd tell you to beat seven different types of living shit out of this bastard, and I'd go after the chick, but because I've been taking anger management, I can't do that." I clenched my fists, my vision starting to go red again. My breath came faster and faster while Blackstar kept standing there like the world's biggest dipshit.

"Shut up, Shay." My voice came out slow and even, with only the slightest hint of a growl to it. She swallowed, but kept talking.

"Liz showed me pictures, remember? I know you want to kill him, but -"

"But what? But what, exactly! If you know what he… what he is… God Shay, just get the fuck off me, now!" I scream, frustrated. She flinches back from my voice, and I wonder vaguely what it sounds like exactly before I grip her wrist and ankle with my hands, bucking and prying desperately as I try to use her opening. But she's strong, and she has the advantage. I manage to get one arm off, my fingers leaving red marks on her skin as she head butts me repeatedly in the back of the neck and then just gives up and bites me as hard as she can. I let go from the shock of it as she breaks skin and rewraps herself around me securely.

"You… bit… me!" I yell, trying to touch the back of my neck, but she's got my arms pinned to my side at the elbow and I can't move them at all. Shay pulls her teeth out of my skin with a wet sound, and I figure that I'm going to have the mother of all hickeys tomorrow and no good explanation for it, and spits out a mouthful of blood onto the ground.

"You taste like… metal." Shay says, shuddering. She gives a high pitched laugh, and I glance at her worriedly, even though she did just take a considerable chunk of blood out of me, until she shrugs it off. "No, it's ok, it just wasn't real, ya know? You being a weapon. You turn into… a weapon. You're something else. You're Soul, but you're something else, too." She shuts up, arms still tight against my chest, and I continue to stare at her face. Something's wrong. Something more than that. A little freckle on the outside corner of her eye catches my attention, and I stare at that, trying to calm the adrenaline pumping through my blood, because it's making me shaky and if I'm going to fight Blackstar today I don't need that as a disadvantage.

Her arms go slack, and she puts her hands on my shoulders, staring into my eyes like I'm the only thing keeping her there. Then she breaks out this goofy grin, as if I've promised her something amazing. "You are watching three movies of my choice, got it? Zombieland, Shaun of the Dead, and… uh, Princess Bride. Top three, baby! And we're going clubbing, out to dinner, to a movie, the whole bit this weekend. Now, kick him where it counts, but not so hard he could bring a law suit." Shay kisses me on the cheek, then untangles her legs easily, standing up with practiced grace. She flashes me a peace sign and then sits in one of the lawn chairs, pulling out her phone and texting someone peacefully before snapping it shut and looking at me expectantly. "Well, Bloody? Do you agree to my terms?"

If she had been here when we fought the Keeshan, I have a feeling it would have had a hard time deciding who was more insane, and Maka wouldn't have had to make that speech after all because its head would just explode.

I laugh, nodding, and the familiar metallic taste of partially transforming spreads through my left arm. A hiss of air leaves my mouth at the not-feeling of the sun on my blade. It's indescribable, like having another sense. So I don't try to describe it.

I try to live it, running for Blackstar at full speed. He's still staring at me, stricken. I'm smiling, smiling because I don't have to pretend or try to be cool or lie or talk or do anything I don't want to - I can just try my hardest to kill him and trust that someone will stop me in time. I slash upward, and he jerks back just in time, so I step backwards, kicking up and right instead, grateful I've been training at the gym so much lately, trying to figure out how to fight on my own to at least a somewhat useful level. It smashes into the side of his chest, pushing him against the house with a crash. I'm rushing the fight, running on adrenaline, scared I won't have enough time.

Blackstar slides slowly down the side, to a sitting position, and I rush him again, slamming the heel of my shoe into his skull with a thud. But he's not fighting. He's taken worse hits then this and still killed things, bad things, things that would eat me for a mid killing spree snack. His body is crumpled in front of the faded yellow siding of the house, defeated, wrapped in a gray hoodie. I slam my foot on the siding by his face and he doesn't even flinch. I run my blade over his neck forcing his head up, forcing him to look me in the eyes, and he doesn't flinch. He doesn't fight.

"Why won't you fight me?" I ask, voice desperate, unhinged. This isn't what I wanted, what I need.

He's silent, green eyes staring into mine with a quiet, empty reassurance. I hate it. I hate everything about it. I pull my blade back, transforming with a white flash that finally, finally makes him flinch. I punch him in the face so hard his head bounces back against the house siding, and a little gasp leaves his mouth.

"Fight me!" I yell. I push my leg off the side of the house and use it to whip his head the other way with a snap. "Fight me!" I scream.

Blackstar spits out a mouthful of blood, not bothering to straighten up, and I just scream for a long moment. When I breathe again, hard panting breathes, he just looks at the ground where I'd pushed his neck.

"Fight me." I whisper.

"I'm… not God." Blackstar whispered, eyes dull. "I keep saying I'm God. But I'm not. So what am I?"

I shake my head, clenching and unclenching my fists. Who gives a shit? I can't fight him like this.

Blackstar turned his head to face me, and I'm pretty sure it must have hurt. I'm not even sure how he found the energy when he wasn't fueled by the fact that he was God of Hamsters on Crack. "I don't have an excuse. I don't love her like you do. I just got carried away. So do what you want. But you're my best friend." Blackstar stopped there, probably afraid he would cry like the melodramatic idiot he was if he kept talking.

He got carried away, huh?

He didn't even love her.

I digest this, wondering if I should hit him again. It's time to cash in for all the times he's ever gotten on my nerves, after all. The anger is still there, but I can control it again, now that I know the reasons. I guess I'm just funny like that.

But then again.

Maybe just… one more time.

_An: Hey, just decided I hate this chapter. Intensely. Totally. :-) Anyways, please review! I apologize for Blackstar being slightly OOC, I couldn't figure out how to write him correctly. Well, enough of my ranting._


	9. Oh So Sauve

Part Nine

It turned into a hell of a lot more then the oh so suave sounding 'maybe just one more time'.

I don't know exactly when or how I climbed onto Blackstar's chest, pinning him to the ground with my knees, raising one fist and punctuating each word quite literally while Blackstar snapped back and forth like a rag doll. I'm not sure if he was unconscious, or if he just didn't care. "You. Got. Fucking. Carried. Away? Balloons. Get. Carried. Away. Pieces. Of. Paper. Get. Carried. Away. _**You**_. Do. Not. Get. Carried. Away!"

That's also about the time I felt a cold circle of metal pressed into the back of my neck, almost my spine, right on top of that little bone that starts your vertebrae.

"Soul." came Shay's cool voice. "It's been seven minutes or so since you've lost it. You can forgive him now, or I can shoot you."

To anyone else, that would have sounded like psycho hose-bitch from hell.

To me, it sounded like my best friend letting me know that she needed my help to look for the movies I'd promised to watch with her while she made popcorn. And that she knew Blackstar was at that special kind of self sacrificing god state today - the one where he would let me do anything, _anything _to him because then he could go back to being his self righteous absorbed ego head tomorrow.

I push myself off Blackstar, and turn my back on him, trusting Shay to move the gun fast enough, which she does, but still manages to konk me upside the head with it. Thanks, trying to have a tough guy moment here. "Next time I want a fight, just give me one." I say, breezing into the house like I'm not leaving a couple pieces of my soul on Shay's backyard. Because it's not going to be the same after this. It is never going to be the same again. Shay follows closely after me, and I'm pretty sure she stuck her tongue out at Blackstar when I wasn't looking. I slam the door behind her, making it clear he isn't invited inside.

She nudges my shoulder with the gun, and gives me a half hearted grin. "Hey, you guys'll be good tomorrow morning. Trust me, I'm a doctor." She strikes a goofy pose, stroking her chin and pointing at her baggy tied back t-shirt, which supports that at least.

"I don't know. This was a one time thing, seeing him like this," I frown. "And I beat him up."

"He asked for it." She shrugged as if that made it ok. Shay always was a weird one. "Why do you think I let you go after him? I gave him plenty of time to run first with all that arguing." Shay leaned on the counter, using her elbows as support, the barrel of the gun under her chin.

"Shay! Be careful! What do you have, a death wish?" I yelled, trying to figure out the best way to force the gun out of her hands without actually pulling the trigger by accident, doing that weird fluttering thing with my hands that makes you look like a worried bird.

"Oh, this? You didn't think I'd - stuuuupid Bloody. Come on, let's all go fix your hands up." Shay said, white light filling the kitchen briefly as her head was suddenly propped in Liz's lap. "I texted her to come back right away, duh, I knew I was going to need backup, and I was fairly certain I could keep her from breaking it up until I needed to."

The texting. THE TEXTING. God, oh dear lord in heaven, why am I such an idiot? At least I hadn't started spilling my guts or anything again. I don't think I would have been able to live that down. Maybe in front of Tsubaki, I could deal with that, but I didn't think me and Liz were going to develop a special bond any time soon. I shake my head, wishing I was alone so I could slam it against something, preferably a wall, preferably repeatedly. At the very least, I should have recognized Liz in her weapon form.

"Ok, Shay." I said with an air of defeat, glancing around her kitchen. I was suddenly starving. Maka's oh-so-wonderfully-prepared-lunch was a half full thing of lukewarm nachos that she stole from Death the Kid because he was having a symmetry attack (no doubt brought on by the idiot who _got_ him the nachos) so she wouldn't have to go all the way to the cafeteria that no one ate in anyway.

It was pretty small, as far as kitchens go, in fact, the old grayish island and the three of us took up most of the room, including all the other kitchen-y stuff that goes in these places. There was a pair of windows to the right of the island above the sink, which was jammed up right against the stove. Across from me was the fridge, with a couple of bottles of pop, Faygo and Mountain Dew (the diet kind) lined up by its side. I eyed it thoughtfully, hoping Shay would get the hint.

Shay rolled her eyes with a groan, getting off Liz's lap. "I'll give you the grand tour while Liz gets the stuff she managed to buy before I interrupted her from the car. Oh, and could you grab his shirt from on top the awning? I don't want my aunt to get any ideas." She said wiggling an eyebrow at me suggestively that I replied to immediately with a snort before she opened the fridge.

Liz shrugged and hopped off the counter, brushing past me and out the door. "I'll be back. Oh, Soul, you're going to have to register your new uniform if you find anything you really like."

I sighed. Stupid rules. Yeah, since the DWMA was a private academy technically, Lord Death thought it would be 'cool' if we had uniforms. Someone had then, thankfully, talked him into the idea that since we were risking our lives voluntarily, we should get to _choose _our uniforms. Since someone had gotten wise and just come to school ten minutes early everyday to register a new uniform, you could only change it two or three times a year, depending on your academic success.

"That reminds me!" Shay said, turning away from the fridge, an Arby's sandwich gripped lightly in her hand. My eyes went wide. There were no major fast food chain restaurants in Death City, at least not the traditional kind. She must have brought it with her, but then again, she was rich enough to have a helicopter fly one in every day for the rest of her life.

"Is that…" I breathed reverently.

"The Good Mood food, that's right." Shay shook her head at it sadly, shutting the refrigerator with a padded thud. "You know, it's still good. I only came in - what, Monday?"

"Shay, don't play games with me." I said, starting to salivate just a little bit in the corner of my mouth. "We both know you want something."

"Yeah, you have to help me pick out my uniform. I've got it narrowed down to about four." She said, face all business as she opened the fridge again. "Arby's sauce, or horsie's?"

God, why did she always win this way? It seems so… effortless. There wasn't even any bargaining. "Arby's. And you suck."

Shay grabbed two packets and stuck the sandwich in the microwave, setting it for 45 seconds. "Don't burn yourself, they get hot really fast." She instructed me sagely, handing me the packets of sauce. "And careful, or you'll be painting my nails too." She added with a quirky frown, shoving her hands in her pockets.

Geez, I've already got one girl that can walk all of over me. What am I supposed to do with one that wears heels on Thursdays?

It took me longer to get home than I think it takes most people to get married. They had to change everything about my… look, and it scarred me. I'd say for life, but I'm not going to be at the funeral.

Picking out Shay's outfit was possibly the only fun thing I did, which would make me feel like a gaywad if I didn't get to tell her several times exactly _why_ it's unfair to wear 'that thing just because you want to see me beat up people who are hitting on you on a slow day.' Instead I got to feel sort of important, mostly because her aunt (who she lives with) won't kill me because she gets mauled by boys and thus has to kill them brutally. Though it would be very good for her entrance exam grades.

I start to head to the elevator in our very nice, if depressingly bright, apartment lobby, then realize if Maka's still up she's going to kill me for not using the stairs, especially since I've been trying to get in the mysterious 'shape' lately. I weigh my options and check my watch, realizing it's already eight. She's probably knocked out in bed by now, with a scathing note on the counter asking me where the hell I am - with hell crossed out and heck written in case her Papa comes in - and why I'm not as tired as she is and how it isn't fair, and she's going to kill me when she's awake, that's for sure. I laugh to myself, quietly, then louder, not really caring if the guy at the desk is giving me weird looks. It sounds _exactly_ like something she would do. I rub the bags under my eyes with a fist, and wonder how just thinking about her can make me smile.

Then I head for the stairs, just because, a little bit of the smile still there. I grab the old metal door handle, wincing at the way the rust burns my hand as I twist it, listening to the familiar groan of the door's hinges. Everyone else in the building, everyone else _sane_ uses the elevator. The thin corridor is actually lit by just a dangling bulb, and I've sworn that there are rats. Maka says I'm stupid, but I think they're afraid that she'll Maka-chop them. "Ok, here we go." I breathe, stepping onto the first stair. They're steeper then normal stairs, each one about the height of a size 12 shoe, and I walk carefully up the first flight, avoiding the bare spots in the carpet out of habit. Me and Maka are on the top floor, though I'm pretty sure you couldn't tell by looking at the outside. Lord Death designed this building himself, which means it's held together by very few laws of physics and a whole lot of nonsense that makes sense to a Death God, I'm sure. He made it right after the Academy, saying that he was so depressed after making it that he needed to make something colorful. When we were assigned to this building, we were more scared then impressed, even if it is in a good area.

I finally reach our flight of stairs, totally focused on my feet. There's no banister, either, just another brilliant architectural choice, or the rats ate it. I pause to yawn, knowing from experience that to keep walking is stupid.

When my eyes open again, I see Maka sitting at the top of the stairs in the corner, her head leaning against the wall as she breathes in and out evenly through her mouth, eyes shut. I swear I have a heart attack right then, gagging on my words as she shifts her weight slightly, moving her legs a little. I look away quickly, wanting to hit myself in the head for the almost overwhelming curiosity, but I'm too afraid I'll fall down the stairs if I try anything like that. Speaking of which, what the hell was _she_ thinking? I swallow, poking my face. It doesn't feel any hotter then usual to my hand, but it sure feels like it's burning up. I mean, she's supposed to be the smart one, and she falls asleep on the top floor of the rat infested stairs?

I sigh. There's really no way out of this one. I'm going to have to wake up the sleeping beast - or carry the said sleeping beast home. Waking her up, pros and cons: She'll be really grumpy and possibly kill you and make you carry her anyway, but complain about the way you do it. But you'll find out why she was on the stairs. Carrying her, pros and cons: Possibly the most romantic, once in a life time chance you will ever get. You'll find out why she was on the stairs in the morning, when she's coherent and not annoyed at you. She'll still possibly kill you… _but it'll be in the morning._

Yeah, carrying her definitely sounded better. I walked up the last couple steps and then examined how she was sitting, trying to be completely tactical about it. Or, in other words, not a complete creep and check her out while she's asleep. Which would be much easier if she wore longer skirts.

Or was sitting… in a… _different_ position.

My escalation into Spirit-dom aside, Maka had her feet - bare feet, no less, God, what was wrong with the girl? - one step down from where she was sitting, making her pretty cramped up against the wall but stable. If I wanted to pick her up, I was going to have to brace myself against my side of the wall with my legs and then scoop her up under her legs and shoulders respectively.

I did so, and it worked fairly well, ignoring the various weird slime that got on the back of my neck that had been stagnating on the wall for various millennia. I ignored the creeping sensation down my back, because two bigger problems had hit me at that moment.

One: Maka, my meister, wore a miniskirt. You think this might have occurred to me before. And, trust me, it had. Several times, in fact. It just hadn't occurred to me that in the romantic carry that said miniskirt would wish to slide up her torso and not down her legs. I mean, in every movie, show and anime you've ever seen does the girl's skirt ever fall up? No, it stays safely there.

Two: The door. Had. A door handle. To open the door handle you needed to use your hand. To carry a sleeping girl you needed to use two hands. To carry a sleeping girl who's skirt is falling down (... up? ...), you needed to use approximately three hands. I think. I'm still working that one out.

I swallowed the rising nervous lump in my throat, wishing the flames in my cheeks would go away. Along with Maka's body, warm and soft, it was almost like I was getting heatstroke. Maybe I should just put her down and wake her up. Yeah. I glance down at her as I start to crouch again, and something in her face makes me go all soft and gooey inside, like when we brought Chrona to the beach the first time and he caught a fish for Maka, and Ragnarok ate it. Maybe it's just because she looks so tired. The dark circles that I'm used to seeing once she washes off the cover up she does NOT use are there, but they looked like someone punched her out rather than she's just a really preppy goth.

I sigh. She's had a longer two weeks then I have, and I've been, what? An ass about it? No way am I dumping her skinny, bony butt on these stupid stairs and making her walk all the way home, no matter what the hell I had to figure out.

I force myself to look at her skirt area, which is the entire problem, or at least a big part of it. The problem is simple, I discover.

She wears boxers.

I have to bite my lip to keep from laughing, teeth scissoring into my skin with ease, but it's worth the joke. They're very tiny, actually. Like mini-boxers for the underprivileged. Or panties with a tail. And even worse they're _Eclipse_ boxers. My shoulders are shaking with silent chuckles, my glee checked only by the fact that I won't be able to use this on her. Oh, God. The mere possibilities.

Anyway, the reason it was such a problem was because the bottom of her skirt had somehow gotten tucked into them, leaving me some very awkward and delicate maneuvering that I'd rather not go into, other than to say that Maka has very soft skin. I shook my head, tucking my arm properly under her knee and the other under her shoulders, making sure her arms were on her chest so it didn't feel weird for her and wake her up, defeating the purpose of the entire thing.

Now for the second challenge: the door. Honestly, this should be simple for me. All I have to do is crouch a little and twist the handle without letting go of Maka.

Except there's no handle.

Greeeeat.

I can see why she was waiting for me, now, at least. She must have been holding the door open. I try pushing on it a couple of times in a clearly futile manner. Any other night. Any other day.

I look down at Maka. Take or leave? I'm going to have to come back for her anyway… so…

I sigh. _You wanted to be the hero. _I _just wanted to take the elevator, but nooooo._ I think sarcastically to myself as I head down the stairs.

One agonizing step at a time.

_**AN: Hey, sorry it took me so long to update, was knocked out sick for a while, but am back up AND on Spring Break… so updates should be coming out fast! Hehe, and don't you just want to know what I'm going to do the poor Soul… MusicSoundsMySoul14 and DreamerOfTheFlowingDream, you give me hope!**_


	10. One Dead Soul

I decide that I am going to be religious as of this moment. Extremely.

Because remember how I said that it would be a breeze to open the door? Practically a piece of cake. Well, it would be. If I was freaking Clark Kent. Because Clark Kent could use his laser vision to melt the hinges of the door off, step outside, and catch it with his foot before it fell. Then he could use his huge journalism salary to pay off the damages the next morning. Because Clark Kent doesn't put up with shi- crap from door handles.

But Soul Eater can jiggle the knob - the rust covered knob - while half crouching, waiting for his arms to give out, or the door to open. A little more to the left…. Almost, almost -

"Soul? What are you doing?" Maka asked, voice thick with sleep. God, come on, it wasn't like I actually _swore_ in my head. The sudden sound had made me jerk my hand, too, leaving the door hopelessly stuck. "How'd I…" her voice trailed off as she stared at the door, mouth slightly open, almost pouting. "Oh."

"Yeah. You fell asleep, I carried you." I muttered, wishing I could give the door a good kick, but knowing that would be the opposite of helpful, especially when I fell on my ass and she laughed hysterically at me. I go over a couple of conversation topics quickly in my head, like: since when have you been eating rocks, or do you have your phone because mine got left in my other pants at Shay's, before settling on the safest one that required least explaining, at least from me. "And where the fuck are your shoes?" I added, voice strained as she shifted to try to twist the knob herself, swatting away my hand. I tried to settle my arms into a more comfortable position as she squirmed, twisting it with all her might, breath hitching uncomfortably as her skin scraped over the rust.

"Profanity filter." she reminded me absently, pausing to yawn, jaw cracking. I blew air out of my mouth indignantly in a loud fashion (otherwise known as a 'huff'). Like hell. Since she had taken the time and effort to take off her shoes before going on these lovely stairs - aren't they lovely, folks? - when I carried her, because I had such ridiculous notions like 'love' and 'loyalty', I felt morally inclined to keep her from stubbing her toes on the walls. The fact that I felt guilty when a rat poked its head out of one of the larger cracks and proceeded to clack its teeth at me had nothing to do with my decision making process. "They were keeping the door open."

My expression went dark as I understood the consequences of the statement. "Mr. Tuefles tripped on them…"

"Then he saw what they were doing," Maka continued, giving a particularly harsh twist to the door handle, hissing as her skin tore on the rust, even though she was smiling a little.

"And hid them in Blaire's laundry." I finished, sending Maka into hysterics as she imagined our senile, and rather crotchety, neighbor shoving her boots in Blaire's almost obscene laundry basket, huddling in his tweed coat as he shuffled back to his apartment, black old eyes glancing around shiftily. Why tweed? Because all old British men wear tweed, of course. We had our own little laundro-mat thing in the apartment building, pretty small, but we didn't have to go all the way to the cleaners so it was cool. Maka and Blaire thought it was the neatest thing ever, because you got your own little keycard and you didn't have to pay in quarters for washes or anything, making laundry a lot cheaper, and it brought in extra business for the apartment building too, since they were pretty good dryers and washers apparently. They got out various gore impressively, but it wasn't anything to get excited about.

"Ow! Shit!" Maka swore, her face dark as she continued to try and twist the knob, even though she had just cut her hand on it.

"Profanity filter." I said sarcastically, taking a step up and back. "Seriously, stop it. It's not opening."

"Yeah, well I don't have any minutes on my phone, so call someone already." Maka informed me, huffing as she resettled herself, crossing her arms indignantly and keeping her feet at a careful distance from the wall.

I sighed. This was where it got complicated. "Nope."

"What do you mean, 'nope'?" Maka asked, scrunching up her face. "Wait a second, when did you get these clothes? They look like something out of a magazine."

I raised an eyebrow, wondering what kind of magazines she'd been reading lately. In Liz and Shay's quest to find my new 'look' they had given me several different clothing types, most of which were currently residing at Shay's house, where I would pick them up that weekend. At least, that was the plan. Knowing her, she would probably just bring them all in to school whenever she registered. Right now I was wearing a black leather jacket with silver holes up the sides, the little ring things, that Liz said you were supposed to put laces or some crap in. Then a deep red t-shirt with black words on it in Asian or Japanese that I couldn't understand, that was ripped 'artfully' according to Shay, but looked like I'd been through a paper shredder with a very angry cat to me. Then I was wearing dark jeans, fitted normally, thank you very much. I'd fought with them to hell and back on that one. My shoes were sticking out, looking very… black, the only thing that I'd managed to keep of my own in the fashion tirade. "I mean, nope. I have no phone. It's at Shay's."

Maka screwed up her face even farther, searching her memory. I waited for her to give up and admit that she had no idea who she was, instead of trying to remember someone I'd never told her about. "Who the hell is Shay?" she finally asked, defiantly. She looked… uh, pissed. Well, that made a lot of sense. I just _love_ girls. And people in general.

I winced. I did not want to have this very long talk with her while standing up. Or holding her, at least not in this position. "Can we sit down?"

Maka rolled her eyes. "Yeah, on _that_ floor." she eyed the light bulb dangling above our heads warily as a sudden draft made her shiver, and the light in the corridor stutter, gesturing toward a particularly nasty stain on one of the stairs, that even the rat droppings avoided. I nodded understandingly and waited for her to draw her own conclusions on the subject, scouting the stairs for a somewhat safe place to sit. I finally found one, a couple of steps up, and waited for her to say something. "My skirt deserves better." She added nervously, laughing. I chuckled. That skirt had been through hell and back, and now she was worried about it? Nah, she just didn't want to sit in rat shit.

"Whatever." I shifted my arms again, my muscles aching at the movement. "I'm going to drop you any second now."

"Fine. I'm sitting on you." Maka said with a sigh, defeated. One for me. Approximately thirty five billion, two hundred thousand, seven hundred and fifty six for her, but hey, who's counting?

I moved up the stairs, checked the stairs one last time with a dubious glare, and plopped down, setting Maka's back against the clean-ish section of wall. She made a small noise of protest at being man handled, but I yawned it off. I'd just carried her down like, eight flights of stairs on practically no sleep then stood here while she figured out what she wanted to do. It wouldn't kill her to be leaned against a wall against her will.

"So. Shay. She's my best friend." I say simply.

Maka stares at me expectantly, raising an eyebrow as the silence drags on. This is how our talks have gone lately. Me trying to squeeze every second out of them, her trying to figure out what the hell my problem is. "And?"

"And what?"

Maka huffed impatiently, blowing her bangs out of her eyes. They're getting long on her again, I note as they settle exactly where they were before. "_And_ why do you have dried blood on your neck, cuts on your hands from where you beat the living crap out of something, new clothes, and, uh," Maka pushed all of her hair back from her face, digging in her pocket for a rubber band. I slipped my hand in my pocket, handing her one of the couple I'd stole a while ago just in case she ever needed one. It was one of the things I'd remembered to grab when I'd left Shay's house. But not the phone. Or your wallet. Go figure. She nodded at me as she took it, snapping the hair up expertly as she talked, refusing to loose her train of thought. "Not telling me about this Shay-chick."

I almost laughed. She had done a near perfect impersonation without even meaning to. "Where do you want me to start?"

Maka started to lean back into the wall then thought better of it, giving it a glance as she leaned forward, tucking her elbows into her hips. "Try the beginning." She said dryly.

"Well then, Liz kidnapped me." I said, enjoying her expression as she opened her mouth to interrupt, but I covered it quickly. "Save all questions to the end, please." She nodded sulkily, peeling off my fingers with a distasteful look.

"After school, she kidnapped me. Then she drove me to Shay's house and left me there. I met up with Shay for the first time in Death City - let me see, at very late at night or very early in the morning - at the hospital." Maka's rather conflicting expressions up to that point smoothed out. "Yesterday, or maybe today, in fact. I know her from years ago, back home." I grin. "You would not believe some of the crap we pulled together if I told you."

Maka shook her head, apparently trying to say that she would believe every single word of it. "So I didn't even know I was at Shay's house. Then we hung out a little in her back yard, where she was going to hose me off because Liz kidnapped me for this makeover thing. Shay paid for it, she's crazy rich, you know." I frowned, remembering suddenly the reason for it, and, even better, the next part of my day. "Her family died. Keeshan egg vendetta. She was adopted, so…"

"The laws." Maka breathed. I gave her a weird look, but nodded, letting her talk.

"Don't you get it, Soul? The laws about Keeshan vendettas." Maka's face was troubled. "Even if she was adopted, she would have been killed, _should _have been killed. We stay out of those matters."

I jerked away from her, the harshness of her words hardly even registering. "What the hell do you mean, we stay out of those matters?"

Maka's eyes were dark as she stared into mine seriously. "I mean, we don't do anything. We let it run its course. It's too dangerous."

"But Shay… she was adopted, she said she was the last target." I shook my head, not understanding. "It must be dead, it can't still be out there!"

"Maybe. But it'll come back." Maka said, and the cold surety in her voice was terrifying. It wasn't her, it was someone else, the Maka who took missions and told families that we'd just killed their father, their sister, their only source of income. "The only way we _might _be able to get rid of it is to have Lord Death bury it. And even in that case it might be able to reform a body using the residual energy of the academy."

"Back up, back up." My head hurt from meister talk. "What are these things? What do they do exactly?"

"They're smarter then the average Keeshan. More tactical, they have to be. They were hurt deeply by someone in their first stage of life, I guess you could call it, and then they go after everyone related to them, the last target usually being the person themselves or a relative that they had missed, barely related at all." Maka spewed, her mind obviously working on overtime. "When they run their course they self destruct, but otherwise they are nearly _impossible _to kill." She gripped my shoulders. "They make the Keeshan look like a toy, Soul. They are unbelievably fast, and strong. Their minds work at higher rates than a human being. They could kill you, and do a week of Stein's calculus at the same time."

I shook my head again, adrenaline rocketing through my body. Shay. Shay was going to die. This couldn't be right. "What do you mean, they rebuild their bodies?"

Maka gritted her teeth, obviously frustrated with me. I couldn't see why, but at the same time I could all too clearly. I wasn't seeing her 'point'. The point that she didn't want to come out and say because it wasn't one that she would make. "When you do manage to kill them, it takes them maybe two to seven months to rebuild their body, depending on how close they are to their last target, and if it was the one they wanted to get their revenge on."

I wrapped my hands around Maka's waist, standing up, her hands gripping my shoulders tighter to keep her balance as she gasped in shock. "Hey!" she yelled.

"Sorry." I muttered, letting go of her. "We've got to get out of here, now."

Maka started to shake her head, then stopped, and nodded reluctantly. "Yeah."

I took her hand and squeezed it, grateful for at least that much comfort. My best friend might die. God, I'd just found her again. Everything was falling apart so quickly. This was only the second day. "On three?"

Maka gave a half hearted grin, turning her slim body slightly to the side and I copied her, setting a firm stance. "One dead soul."

"Two dead soul." I said, focusing my gaze on the door - the _metal_ door - as she twined her fingers with mine. Whatever. Me and my meister could fight through that crap. All we had to do was break through a couple centimeters of hollow metal attached to a concrete frame.

"Three dead soul!" We yelled together, charging the door as our voices echoed hollowly behind us.

_**AN: Everything from car accidents to all day trips - this has been a busy spring break. *Sigh* But here's the chapter! You know, and when I wrote the outline it said: MakaxSoul fluff. Never give your outline that much free reign. Please review!**_


	11. She knows Indian, I know Suicide

The guy at the desk died, I think.

Then he came back to life as a very angry Indian college student who didn't know English very well, who had absolutely no regard for the fact that I'd just put my shoulder through the worst experience of its life.

"Fuck!" I swore, loudly. Maka gave me the look that told me she knew where all the books in the lobby were. Shit.

The desk guy apparently knew _that_ word because he looked extremely offended, straightening his tie with a huff, the straight black hair gelled up in spikes over his ghost like skin making him frighteningly resemble a penguin for a few moments before he started screaming at us in gobbledygook, pointing at the door lying quite innocently on the floor every once in a while to enunciate his point. I looked helplessly at Maka, but she just shrugged, straightening out the sleeves on her shirt and brushing off the shoulder she had used to aid in our most recent criminal activity nonchalantly.

Great, so I was on my own. "Excuse me, Mr. -" I leaned closer, trying to read the dude's nametag. It was freaking indecipherable, just one long line of consonants with the occasional vowel thrown in. "Gezundheit. We were trapped."

The man, kindly dubbed Mr. Gezundheit, blinked at me dumbly for a few moments. Maybe I should have talked slower. He seemed to have the adequacy in English that I did in German, my foreign language class.

"Shut up, Soul." Maka said, rolling her eyes. "You can be such an idiot sometimes." Then she launched into a long dialogue with Mr. Gezundheit that left me dizzy, mostly comprised of words like his nametag. They gestured toward the door often, but she seemed to be winning the argument, and Mr. Gezundheit eventually, reluctantly, pulled out a piece of paper. Maka paused, a little lost - welcome to my world - before Mr. Gezundheit impatiently led her to the desk with the pen. I followed, peering over her shoulder as she jotted down our room number and names on the paper. Maka clicked the ornate fountain pen shut and set it back in its holder, and then looked up to say something to Mr. Gezundheit as my eyes followed the tiny chain connected to the pen out of habit before snapping back to her face.

"Yo. Maka." I said softly, tugging on her sleeve, feeling like a five year old trying to get their Mom's attention. She looked back at me, glaring a little as if to say, 'What? I'm BUSY.' I gulped, but continued. "Since when do you know Indian?"

Maka laughed, pulling two slips of paper out of her pocket. "Now leave me alone, I'm working. I have to talk to him about the state of the stairs now, try and convince him that the insurance will cover it."

I nodded, placated. Well, at least that made sense. The overwhelming feeling of her being my Mom came back, and I shuddered, wanting to jump around and physically beat it off. I looked down at the pieces of paper, instead. One was a postcard from India, obviously from Maka's mom, with something written in Indian on the back. At least, I assumed it was Indian, she could have also just have been drunk and scribbled something on it. I frowned, watching Maka's back as she talked to Mr. Gezundheit. She put way too much stock in her Mom. In my opinion, not that I would ever dare put voice to it (who, me?), Spirit was a better parent than Kami. At least Spirit tried to take care of Maka, the best he knew how. The fact that he was terminally retarded was to be considered for another time. But this woman… I didn't even know anything about her. She never called, just sent these stupid freaking pieces of paper that made Maka look like she was on top of the world for a day, at least until she came down from the high.

Where did she get all this money to travel, for one thing?

It was driving me insane, but if I asked Maka about it I knew I would want to say something about this entire thing with her Mom being… at the very least, unhealthy. I'd seen her fall into literal depressions about this, not that she would admit it. And then her Maka-feelers would go out and she would sense that I didn't like her Mom and she'd murder me. Slowly, with a pitchfork.

The other piece of paper was a class schedule, Maka Albarn's to be specific. We all had to take at least two foreign languages, two years in the first one and one in the other one. If you were a meister you had to take more time in them or more languages, I think, because you got sent around the world and were actually expected to talk to the locals. The weapons could stand there and pick their nose or order some take out. Unless you were a death scythe and then you could learn on the job or get something nastily foreign done to you.

Apparently she'd been taking Indian for a looooong time. This was from freshman year. The postcard was old, too. From years and years ago. It must have been a big inspiration. I'll have to ask her what the hell the stuff on the card means. And why she hadn't told me she was taking Indian - I mean, she knew every freaking detail of my life. At least, up until lately. I frown, staring down at the schedule in my hands, and the weird swirly patterns on the rug that look kind of like puke. It's not that I really care what she's taking as far as classes. I just can see how important this is to her.

And that's it, I realize, shaking my head. We know next to nothing about each other. How has this worked? We've lived together for years, made a schedule (well, she made the schedule) for dishes and food and vacuuming, helped each other with studying and homework, been good friends in most aspects. Had a few private jokes.

But looking at her, working her magic with a complete stranger, I can't help but smile. It's so stupid. We know each other's souls, could find each other in a world full of clones, but we don't know each other. Maka walks toward me, and takes the papers back with the air of someone who's held them for a long time, slipping them in her pocket with a confused look. "Why are you looking at me like that?" she asked, touching the single ponytail behind her head self consciously.

"I just realized something, that's all." I answer cryptically. I want to know… _everything_ about her. It's funny how quickly I'm noticing how much there is I don't want her to know about me. "Come on."

I head for the revolving doors, expecting her to follow, but she catches the back of my collar instead. "You have your keys?"

Damn it. Now there was something I was hoping I could wait a while to explain. Like, maybe tomorrow morning. "We don't need them. My bike got… pounded." I say grudgingly. That physically hurt to admit.

"It got freaking impounded! What the hell, Soul! You know it takes forever to get to school!" Maka released my collar, and I turned around slowly, cringing. But there was no encyclopedia of EVERYTHING in her hands. She was ticking off fingers, muttering to herself as she counted. "Lemmee see… If we both shower at night… And eat on the way there…"

She looked up at me, a relieved expression on her face. "Ok. This will work. At least until we get your motorcycle back."

I cringe again. "Yeah, that's the thing. Neither of us have any money."

Maka sighed heavily. "I guess stealing it would be out of the option then." Wow, Maka even alluding to something illegal. She must really hate walking to school. Maybe it's the steel toed boots - great for slamming Keeshan eggs in various pressure points, not so great for hiking on the sidewalk.

"Yup. And if we asked your dad…" I shuddered, just imagining how that sequence would play out.

"_Oh, Maka! You want me to drive you to school!" Evil eye daggers hit me in the face. "Of course, I can't drive delinquents who _skip lessons _to school, so I suppose Soul will just have to walk for the _**rest of his senior year**._" _

Maka shuddered too. "Never. I'd rather walk."

I nodded. "So are we walking to Shay's then?"

Maka looked at me for a few seconds before she laughed. "No, we're taking the bus. You know, people do actually get around this town some other way."

Well, that didn't make me feel like an idiot. All those months and years of walking (especially during the summer) for nothing? Just because Maka felt like it? No wonder she gave me weird looks when I complained about city funding.

"I'll go beg some money off of Blaire." I sighed.

Maka's face went hard. "No, I'll do it. It's time for rent, anyway. I hate this time of the month."

"_Rent_?" I asked. "Is that even legal, Maka?" Sure, who cares about apartment regulations? It's not like she's _human._ Wait, does that mean we have a pet, and we're charging rent? How many rules are we breaking here?

Maka sniffed. "Well, she's the only one of us who works. Besides, I let you keep her, didn't I?"

Now Blaire was some stray cat that I picked up. Nice. "Fine. I'll wait here." That left me with a good ten minutes to do nothing while she took the elevator - note the irony - to our apartment, humming to herself quietly, a song I didn't recognize. It might have been folk music. I settled down on one of the really ugly couches, covered in that god awful, but for whatever reason, 'fashionable' print, basil or something. I'd tried to introduce her to other types of music, but they made her gag. People called it tone deaf, but I think it went deeper then that. She was music deaf. She could not possibly be hearing the same music I was playing if she thought Billy Joel wasn't good. And I could not possibly be hearing her right if her favorite band was the Schnickelfritz Band. I mean, really? Schnickelfritz? I had to check Youtube. Twice.

I glanced down at my feet, found nothing of interest, and then looked at the table, found even less of interest, and then looked out the window. I sighed. It was pitch black out. By the time we got home, I was going to barely be able to keep conscious in the shower. I shifted my body impatiently, leaning forward in my chair until I was sitting practically on the edge, staring out the huge plate glass that covered most of the front of the building like it was a fancy business corporation in a movie or something.

Shay. Shay was out there, in that fucking tidal pool of darkness that was dragging me in further the more I stared at it. Shay and her killer-to-be.

I shuddered. Yeah, that's it. Stare at an empty street and think happy thoughts, Soul. All I have to do is get through the next half hour or so and I'll be at her house, where I can get times. Dates. Figure out where the keeshan egg is going to hit again, how long until it reforms.

And Maka will be there. Maka is the smart one. She'll know what to ask. I can register Shay for the academy, too. I'm pretty sure Lord Death sleeps from three to seven, from the one and only time I spent the night at Kid's house. The symmetry in the guestroom was too much for me, no matter how much Maka wanted me out of the house so her and her friends could do whatever girls do at sleepovers. I think they went through my room three or four times.

_If she's registered for the academy, then she'll be under their protection. They'll have to do something, no matter what that pigtailed girl said abo… _the tinny voice fades out with a buzz like static and my limbs, frozen with fear, defrost so fast that I jerk upward, stumbling forward, kicking my heels against the couch and falling into the coffee table.

It can't be. It's just the stress, and the lack of sleep, and all the transforming lately. It's not the demon. I _freaking ate_ him. I pull in one breath after another, though my lungs seem to want me to black out, seizing up around the air hesitantly. My hands are surreally big in the moment, and I wonder how I haven't noticed it before. My middle finger, at least, must be, like, four inches long.

_Useful… ervation…. _

Oh, shit. Blood is filling my mouth from where I bit down on my tongue at the distant voice, but I hardly notice it. The demon is back, Shay is possibly, probably, going to die, and it's fucking April of my senior year.

"Soul! Soul!" Maka's voice yells, and then her hand grabs my shoulder, her head leaning down to face mine. "Are you okay? You're bleeding!" She reached up to touch my mouth, her hand pulling away red.

It snaps me out of it, harder than anything else would have. Man up, would you? Shay could die, you're worrying Maka, and you're freaking out like some cheerleader who just found out her favorite lip gloss was discontinued because the inevitable happened.

It's not like I knew this wouldn't happen, especially with Maka being away so much lately - out with one thing or the other, our classes keeping us apart, and then Blackstar of all people. Her purifying wavelength was the reason I could handle it in the first place, when I started to go insane. So a few years of complete sanity weren't too bad to trade for the rest of my life.

I licked my lips shakily, already spouting some crap about standing up and tripping. I doubted she was buying it. But who cared. I was a dead man. I couldn't hang on her metaphorical coat tails for the rest of her life. I couldn't do that to _her_, not with the demon in tow. She deserved a normal life. But I wasn't going to go insane alone and make her kill me either, give her any sense of responsibility.

It wasn't a decision I was going to make tonight, or tomorrow. It took too much planning for that. But one way or another, I was killing myself.

_**AN: **__I feel like a very, very BAD person. I've written several chapters lately, and have the plot mapped out, the sad thing is.. None of them… got… posted… My family got addicted to that new game called Rift, and no one wants to let me on! Please review, as always ~ oh, and I don't own Soul Eater… fortunately…_


	12. Always Being There,The Guilt Trip

My back is shivering against the metal grating of the park bench by the bus stop while Maka sits all cozy in my jacket, since she forgot hers in the rush. It took me the entire walk here, shoving it into her arms, to get her to wear it. I'm about a centimeter from her legs, but it's still not close enough to absorb any body heat - they're like blocks of ice.

"H-how do you do it?" I ask, my teeth starting to chatter. It should not be this cold in the desert. I mean, it was warmer in Maine, or at least it felt that way. Maybe it was the wind, the never ending wind that felt like it was trying to rip the flesh from my bones one raggedy strip at a time.

Maka glanced at me, retucking her skirt under her body as she talked. "I've always lived here. When I was little, maybe 7 or so, I'd go looking for him at night. It was better than staying at home. Even in the winter."

I didn't have to ask who she meant by him. Her dad, of course. I put an arm around her shoulders impulsively, partially because I was freezing, partially because I felt like a douche for bringing it up in the first place. We stayed like that for a while, and I have to say that while it didn't make me any warmer, it was… nice. It wasn't like in books, or in movies, how they say it was the most romantic thing ever. My arm was still just an arm, and it was just Maka. But it was _Maka_. And something about that made me feel like I could keep this until the day I killed myself.

"Thanks." Maka said quietly, breaking the stillness around us.

"For what?" I asked, running a hand back through my hair to keep it out of my face. I really wished Liz and Shay had let me keep the headband. They were so useful.

"For always…" Maka paused, gathering her thoughts. "For always being there for me. I've never really said it in so many words, but you don't leave me a lot. And lately I've been really…"

Maka trailed off, and I looked down. Her lips were pressed into a thin line, her eyes open as wide as possible. Her shoulders shook a little, but she refused to cry, turning her head away from mine to stare off in the direction the bus was supposed to come from.

"Maka." I said softly, running my free hand over her hair. "Maka, I'm not going to think you're weak if you cry."

Maka gave a strangled laugh that sounded more like a sob. "No, but I will." she choked out. "I'm the one who screwed up, I can't be upset like this."

The headlights of the bus turned the corner in that moment and I could have shot the driver. Maka practically dove for the door, scrunching her head down so that he couldn't see her face. Well, there goes killing myself, so all I can hope for is that I get to live with her for the rest of my life. Or that I get mugged. 'For always being there for me.' Gotta love unintentional guilt trips.

I duck into the door after her, ignoring the confused and slightly dirty looks the driver is shooting me. Yes, yes, I know it looks like something probably really bad, but nothing horrible has happened to her - err, today.

"Bus fare." the driver said stonily, the bus growling as it idled.

"She paid for two." I mutter as I searched the mostly empty seats.

The driver giggled hysterically, and I gave him a weird look, wondering what exactly was in the 7-eleven Slushie cup. "It's free at night, kid, I'm screwing with you. Your girlfriend's in the back row, left."

I gave him a nod, and started heading down the aisle, stopping when he grabbed my wrist seriously. "Hey. No fooling around, got it?"

Oh, God. "Yes, sir. Understood." I nod again, and he releases my wrist. I practically sprint to the back before he starts the bus going again. After a bad car accident when I was ten, I don't like to be up when the vehicle is moving.

I slide into the cracked green seat with a sigh of relief, watching the city flash past. Maka is staring out the window too, breathing deeply in an effort to calm down. "I can't stop." She said steadily, her voice normal.

I grabbed her hand, trying to startle her into looking at me, but I was pretty sure I could start making out with it and her pride wouldn't break. Maka didn't like to have people see her cry. We had that much in common. Sometimes I thought she was part Evans. I sighed again and settled into the seat more comfortably, my body slanted to face hers, twining our fingers together. Maka's caught mine automatically at first, a reflex from training and fighting, and then gripped them tightly. "You shouldn't have to stop crying."

"Why? Because I'm a girl?" Maka laughed shakily.

Yes. "No. Because you never cry. You've earned it."

Maka laughed again, wiping her eyes. "It was so stupid, all of it. That was the same logic that got me here. Go on, you're taking AP and Honors, it's your birthday, all of your friends are gone, you've been accepted to Yale and Harvard, you've earned it."

"What?" I whispered.

"Yeah, I got accepted." Maka said, looking down miserably, hair hiding her face. "I don't know what to do anymore. I thought life was so clear cut - you go to the DWMA, you make death scythes, you take a job running a country. But it's not, is it, Soul?"

Yale. Harvard. Yale _and_ Harvard.

"You should get the continent, screw the system." I whispered. I couldn't stop whispering. Death scythes getting continents and meisters getting countries, ha.

Maka smiled at me, the soft yellow light of the moon from behind casting her face into shadows. "I should have told you and Blaire, at least."

"I was just thinking earlier." I heard myself saying, still whispering. It was like someone else was moving my mouth, too fast for me to keep up with. "How we knew each other's souls, but not each other."

Maka looked like someone punched her in the face. "That's not-"

"What's my favorite movie?" That whispery voice interrupted. I was really starting to hate it.

"I… don't know." Maka looked stunned.

I tried not to let the illogical hurt show. I had my voice again, and frankly I didn't want it. The whispers could talk all they wanted. I'd just copy off some thoughts I'd been having earlier, since we were being so honest, apparently. I turned to face the back of the seat in front of us. "I want to know everything about you. I don't want to end up like some partners, just checking in on Facebook every three months or whatever." I swallowed quietly. "Senior year ends on May 28th."

"It's April 17th." Maka said quietly, leaning back in her seat too, then against me as an almost afterthought.

"I know." I answered. I didn't know what else to say.

"In 6th grade, my friends and me used to play a game called the question game." Maka said slowly, unsurely. "We have about ten minutes, by the way." Now she was just stalling. "So, here are the rules: you can ask any question, you have three chickens, and you have to answer all questions completely and honestly."

"That's brutal." I told her, rubbing the back of my neck. "Did you ever play it with any boys?"

"Oh, so _you're_ starting!" Maka said with unmistakable glee in her voice. Damn it, she was good. "Yeah, once, with this guy named Kyle. We gave him unlimited chickens so he'd play, which was kind of stupid in hindsight."

"I want unlimited chickens." I moaned. It may have sounded like a joke, but I wanted them. She was reminding me more and more of a real girl by the second - the kind that knew the right wrong questions to ask.

Maka rolled her eyes, but made no more mention of my pathetic plea. "Ok… are you a virgin?"

Chicken! Definitely a chicken. Or, wait… If I used a chicken now, couldn't she just ask the question over and over again until I was out of chickens? Ugh, these stupid rules had too many loopholes in them. "Yup." I said, hoping my face wasn't as red as I thought it was.

"Thought the chicken thing through?" Maka said with an evil look.

"Shut up." I muttered at her. I had to get a good one on her… aah, ok. "What's your cup size?"

Maka's face went purple. "Soul… I think we're missing what the point of this was supposed to be. To get to know each other better."

I waved it off. "Fine, fine. So no cup size questions. Have you ever been in a car accident?"

Maka blinked a couple of times. "Uh, yeah. Once, when I was 12. That was what made me late for school. It made us partners. A car just rear ended us, but still." She grinned.

I smiled a little too. "Your turn."

"Oh, right." Her face scrunched up before it relaxed into a quizzical expression. "Soul, don't hurt me for this, but… have you actually ever had a girlfriend?"

"What?" I said defensively.

"Girls confess to you all the time, and I think you went on a date once since we partnered because I pissed you off, but you've never really… gone out with anyone." Maka looked intensely interested.

I pulled my shoulders into my chest as much as I could, an old habit that made me feel somewhat safer, even though I had stopped it as soon as I met Chrona. "I'm just…I'm really not that kind of guy, Maka. I love one girl, and I love her for as long as I can, whether or not she loves me back, because I decided to. And no one's decided to like me that way back as far as I know." I stare at the back of the seat so hard I'm pretty sure it should start melting under the heat of my gaze.

There was a long silence on Maka's end and I finally dragged my gaze along the green vinyl to look at her, where she was studying my face. "You know, Soul? I think that's the coolest thing you have ever said." She told me, reaching back to adjust her ponytail as the bus jerked to a stop. "Oh, this is ours, come on!"

I nodded dumbly as she almost crawled over me to get out of the seat, walking blankly off the bus and onto the street. Rose Ave. Yeah, it looked like the street that Liz had drove down to take me to Shay's house. The sense of urgency, quelled by the question game, suddenly rose to the front of my mind, making my muscles jump, taking long strides down the side of the paved street. There wasn't a sidewalk. It was funny how one of the crappiest areas in town was the nearest to the school.

Maka, who had watched the bus depart, jogged to catch up with me. She was in better shape then me, but she was still breathing a little faster than usual. It had been a long day.

"Maka. My question. If Shay is a student of the academy, do you think she'll have a better chance of getting help?" The demon's voice echoed through my mind again, thankfully just a memory, and I pushed my feet faster, almost running.

Maka pushed her hands into the pockets of my jacket. "I don't know. Maybe. We'd have more help from her partner for looking for information." Maka frowned. "My question. Do you like Shay?"

I stopped and turned to my right, facing Maka, and Shay's house, on the other side of the street. "I… No. I don't think so. I did, once. A long time ago." I grinned at Maka sadly, not sure what to say, what not to say. So I settled for the what I like to call the classic douche answer. "I'm into someone else right now, but I'm not sure she feels the same way, you know? Come on, that's her house."

We crossed the street quickly, Maka gripping the back of my shirt to make me wait so she could check for cars coming - from both ways, twice, kind of like a kindergartner. I laughed, hardly able to believe that this was the same girl who had killed over a hundred once human creatures. In her school girl uniform, but still. Maybe that was how she retained her innocence.

When I got to the door, I saw that they had finished the trim, making me shake my head internally at the memory of me singing Avril Lavigne with my shirt off, painting. I knocked, gritting my teeth together. The car in the driveway was one of those generic beat up, smaller cars that could be anything in the low lighting, but I knew Maka well enough that she'd have the license plate. If it belonged to the Keeshan egg that was so dangerous that it could think, could drive. We could be too late. I slammed on the door again, hard enough to rattle the windows.

The door opened to Shay in a black and yellow football jersey that dropped to four inches or so above her knees and sleeves nearly to her elbows, with packing tape in one hand and the other one reaching up to cover a yawn. I bear hugged her, even though she's so short I had to bend over to try and break her rib cage. Her spine made a sound like Rice Krispies on a Saturday morning, and I squeezed her harder. She smelled like coconut and pomegranates.

"Can't - breathe - Bloody!" Shay gasped out, arms flailing as she giggled helplessly. I forgot she was ticklish. I put her down reluctantly. God. I'd really thought she was dead.

I'd have missed her.

"What are you wearing? Isn't that North High's jersey?" I asked, poking her in the shoulder where she had removed the pads, probably to make it more comfortable to sleep in.

"Yup." She twirled, the mesh poofing out… not quite like a ball gown, but I wasn't going to tell her she couldn't be a princess. "Don't you love it?" She asked as I pulled Maka inside, mouthing, 'Shay'. "I stole it from a boyfriend so his scout wouldn't be able to find him - it's a long story - basically, because he was cheating on me with Jessica."

"Jessica?" I asked, my mouth practically hitting the floor as I led Maka to the couch by her hand. "I hope you dumped his sorry ass. What were you doing dating a Senior, anyway? Never mind, I _don't_ want to know." I shook my head at Shay as she settled into the blue recliner across from us, curling up like a cat and crossing her ankles. Maka shifted uncomfortably, and I winced. Yeah, nice going. Forget your meister. Whenever I was around Shay it was like something clicked and we just knew each other - and I ended up acting like a teenage chick. I closed my eyes. Then there was the fact we were here to tell her she was supposed to die.

That put a damper on things.

"Shay, this is Maka, my meister." I said with a smile, opening my eyes. Shay raised her eyebrows. "Vice versa."

"Well, I've certainly heard about you." Shay said, then just let the sentence drop. Oh, _come on._ Really? Do you hate me that much?

I gave her a look, and she burst out laughing. "Oh, God, your faces. No, really, I've heard good things about you. The best. Please live up to them. From Liz too, except your fashion sense and something about folk music. But your fashion sense seems fine to me." Shay shrugged, giving Maka's boots an appraising look. Of course, she didn't know about the sweater vest. Or the pigtails. "So why you guys here? Couldn't live seven hours without me?"

"What the fuck, it's midnight? How?" Maka practically screamed. I sighed. Maka had been struggling with her swearing lately, especially out of sight of teachers, and when surprised. I think it had to do with being a senior.

"She probably reset the clocks when I was over here, making _me _think it was earlier then it was, and as for you, you fell asleep." I rubbed my temples. "Maka, we're getting off topic, don't you think?"

A blond woman in a nurse's uniform, mid twenties maybe, suddenly appeared in the kitchen doorway, stirring a spoon in her 'Bite ME I have clinical lycanthropy' mug. "There was a topic? Shay, you don't think they'll help you move, do you?"

"Aunt Ophelia, when'd you get home!" Shay practically screamed, breaking my eardrums, jumping onto her aunt in a tackle hug. Her aunt somehow kept the full mug from spilling at all, her arm stuck up like a flag. "This is Soul!"

"I told you not to call me Aunt. It makes me feel old." She responded dryly, brushing herself off when Shay decided to release her. Shay bounced back to the recliner, gazing at her Aunt with obvious adoration. Ophelia perched on the side of it almost distastefully, setting her mug on the coffee table. She reached her hand out, shaking firmly first with Maka then with me. "My name is Ophelia. I work at the local hospital, night shift, which gives me a little bit of experience on how to deal with nutcases like Shay here."

God, was everyone really related to Shay - really related - this nice? I exchanged a glance with Maka and we knocked each other's shoulders for strength before she started talking.

"We have some bad news about Shay." Maka began. "The Keeshan egg who killed her family is still alive."

Ophelia blinked a few times, then looked down at Shay, who was giving Maka a slightly curious look. "No, it's not. I saw it die. I _saw him die_."

"They don't die. This kind doesn't for some reason, we don't know why. We can do research, figure out how to take it down." I said before Maka could talk. Maka gave me a sad look that I didn't really understand. I didn't really want to.

"How long before it comes back for her, then?" Ophelia asked.

"It has to reform its body first. When did it die?" Maka said.

"Two and a half months ago, give or take." Shay said quietly. Ophelia squeezed her shoulder, and I swallowed.

"Holy shit." I said. "How long did you say it was, Maka?"

"Two to seven months." Maka looked around the house nervously, like it - no, he - could burst in any moment and start killing us. Which was exactly true.

I leaned forward, putting my elbows on my knees and lacing my hands under my chin. "Ok, here's the plan."

_**AN: **__What? You thought I was going to do… a cliffhanger? Insanely long chapter, right ~ by the way, yes the question game IS real, and so was the example. For how to play it in larger groups of people, PM me. :- ) Lol - review, please!_


	13. Danger: She doesn't know what to die in

…_**if your soul will fade at all, the one you sold to fool the world, you lost your self esteem along the wa- **_

"Uuurrgh." I loved that song. I loved my ring tone. I did not love it when it was an alarm at six thirty in the morning when I'd slept on what was apparently a medieval torture device. For those interested in submitting some other selfless, unknowing idiot to this, it's known to the general public as Shay's couch.

"Soul, your turn for a shower." Maka told me, flopping into the recliner. She'd had it even worse then me, but she'd insisted it was comfortable. Then again, she'd been shorter since Junior year, so she might not have been lying. And recliners had more padding… damn it. I'd been had.

"I'll wake you up when it's time to go." I told her, and she grunted thankfully, so I dropped a throw on top of her as her breathing slowed. Maka had never had my issues with insomnia, sleeping on a strict schedule with a regulated 7-9 hours of sleep each day. It was one of the few things about her that were actually disgusting. I stretched, yawning loudly. Thankfully, Shay had for some reason stolen all of one of her ex's pants and was now fond of making them into miniskirts or baggy shorts that she couldn't sit with her knees up in, so I was sleeping in an old pair of jeans so I could wear the new clothes today.

Sometimes I wondered what Shay would do to me if I ever got her angry, but I usually stopped at: shave my hair off. Shuddering, I headed in what I hoped was the general direction of the bathroom, stopping outside of Shay's room to knock. It was time to get her up, anyway. Her Aunt would be getting home from work around eight today, because she'd swapped shifts to stay later to talk with us.

"Yo, Shay!" I called through the light colored wood. The red Danger sign on the door made me smirk, especially the way she'd tilted it at an angle. When I'd asked her about it the other day, she'd told me that it had been on the door when her Aunt had gotten the house, and she'd never gotten around to taking it off. So tilt it because it looked stupid straight… and, voila. Apparently. It had been the Guest Room before, probably clean and airy and with a bed for us guests. A flash of pure hatred shot through me as I rubbed a kink in my back, waiting impatiently for a sound, any sign that she was conscious and not just ignoring me. This room was dangerously messy and all Shay's - not a thing to be trifled with.

"I'm coming in, sleepy head." I twisted the knob, shoving the door open through the first three layers of clothing scattered on the floor, though there were substantially less then yesterday. Most were in boxes scattered around the room. I frowned, vaguely remembering Ophelia saying Shay was moving, and filed away everything I saw for future reference. Except for the underwear. And - Shay really needs to get up now. "You alright?" I asked, seeing her huddled up under maybe three comforters, her red hair spread around her head like a halo. Moving in closer, by her head I could see a photo album, of us when we were kids. It made my stomach hurt, the memories, for some unfathomable reason.

"Hey, Shay, wake up." I said, shaking her shoulder through the blanket. She opened an eye groggily, wincing as I reached over her face and pulled back the curtains over her bed, the bright orange sun hitting her face with an almost audible smack.

"Soul? Why are you… you smell good." She told me groggily, pushing herself up with an elbow before falling back with a yawn that smelled more like chocolate then morning breath.

I jerked away from her, covering my eyes as I turned bright red. She was in her underwear. Her black, lacy, and if I was not mistaken, push up bra underwear. "What the hell happened to the North High jersey, Shay?"

"Didn't want to die in it," she told me as she smothered another yawn, and I caught a flash of pale skin as she dragged herself out of the bed with what must have been a massive effort to her closet and presumably started slipping into the clothing we had picked out together. It took way more effort than it should have not to peek, even though I knew she would kill me, and was trusting me not to. Though she might have still been asleep.

"Hey, I still look okay in this?" Shay asked, and I pulled my hand down. "I must have ate an entire jar of Nutella last night."

I smiled at her, the blush still fading if the freakishly hot feeling in my cheeks was any indication. At least I hadn't gotten a nosebleed. Maybe Blackstar's cure to my problem - which mainly involved dragging me to strip clubs that didn't card as much as they said they did so he could laugh at me - was paying off. "Yeah, you look great." I jerked my head at the album. "I've gotta take my shower now, but do you think you could bring that to school? I -" It wasn't that I wanted to see it. I just wanted to distract her from what was clearly a mental breakdown waiting to happen. Not that she didn't deserve it, she was going - might die. And it was a good excuse to not look at her for a while well I talked. "I want to see how many laws you actually have _record_ of us breaking."

Shay laughed. "Ok, just let me grab my hairbrush and make up from in there first, and then it's all yours." It took me a second, and Shay leaving the room, for me to realize she meant the bathroom was our destination.

"You know, sleeping in your underwear is surprisingly comfortable. I see why guys do it all the time now. Though kind of awkward." Shay nodded back at me as we walked down the hall and into the bathroom. "I'll just have to find some pj's I won't mind dying in."

She started grabbing stuff off the sink, and she dropped a tube longer and wider than any of my fingers, mascara if seeing Blaire do her makeup has given me any knowledge of women's secret world at all, her hands shaking so bad that she dropped everything else when she went to pick it up. I stopped her quickly, grabbing her shoulders. "You can't laugh everything off, Shay. It's fine. We've got the plan."

Shay shook her head, her face crumpling in. Maybe that meltdown was coming sooner than I'd thought. "No, we don't. We have some sloppy understandings shoved together that might work if everyone agrees to it."

"Everyone will agree to it." I told her seriously, pulling her to her feet and speaking with a confidence I didn't feel. "And as far as I know, there's only one free weapon in our class, something Russian. He'll _have _to partner with you, and like it."

Shay shook her head again, gesturing down. I didn't get it. "Why? Why would he like me?" Aaah. Okay. Time for confidence boosting.

"Because you're hot, and gorgeous, and you dress like you know it. And you're fun, and crazy. And you make me think like a teenage chick." And did I use 'and' enough times there? I think I could have squeezed it in maybe one more time. But at least it proved the last point. "Besides - I don't know how to explain this right but… I could be having the worst day on Earth, and God knows I have, and I'll be around you and you'll act like everything is alright so it has to be." Still not right. I flicked my tongue against my teeth in aggravation, half enjoying to sharp pain as it reminded me of how truly useless I must be. "There was a long time when I couldn't feel anything, and the only person I could feel anything - at least anything nice - was you." I looked at her. I was out. I could start citing examples of her sheer rawking awesomeness, but she was there.

She knew what happened.

Shay breathed out softly through her nose, tilting her head down, messy straight red hair covering her face as she pushed past me. "Just take your shower." she muttered, walking so fast to her room she might as well have been running. I let my shoulders drop with a sigh. Normally I was on the same book as Shay - occasionally even the same paragraph - but then the mysterious girl aspect would kick in and I'd be lost again. I bent over and grabbed the miscellaneous makeup scattered all over the floor, setting it outside the door before I shut it.

It didn't take me long to shower, though when I came out my hair smelled like coconut and pomegranates, a mixture that had never been created in the history of man before for a reason. Standing in front of Shay's - or maybe it was Ophelia's, now that I thought about it - streaky, steam filled mirror, I wondered how people could even look at me normally.

Longer, Asian face, my Mom's. Good looking enough, if you were colorblind and my mouth was closed. Pull back my lips even a little bit - and there they were. The beautiful demon teeth that had scared the living shit out of the Catholic nurse who helped deliver me, in fact, she almost threw me out the window. They didn't look like shark teeth to me, like everyone said, in fact, if anything, they looked like perfectly fitted triangles, like when they do a close up of an eel's mouth on River Monsters. Or the Maori on Deadliest Warrior. My eyes were faceted shades of red, pretty cool to look at really, especially since they changed color, though not according to my mood as far as I could tell. Maka swore they did.

_Does she?_ My spine jerked up reflexively, but I forced myself to relax, settling back onto the counter, letting my hair drip back into the sink. "Long time, no see." I told the demon quietly. "You here to take over my soul, or have you moved on to bigger and brighter things - like cosplay? I hear Haruhi's big this season."

_Haruhi's always big._ The demon informed me, and I saw it then. There. In the reflection of my eyes, doing its fucking little swing dance. _And, unfortunately… no. I don't have anything better to do. Since you ate me, I can't even infect anyone else! And that Shay would have made such a nice target… so… __**vulnerable**__._

I shuddered. There was one worry off my mind. When Shay had bit me, I had mostly been thinking along the lines of WTF? But underneath there had been a current of fear. If Shay had been infected by my blood, she didn't have anyone but me to keep her from going under, and I'd probably just drag her down with me. I wondered for half a second what he meant by _vulnerable_ exactly before I pushed it into the growing pile of things about Shay I'd have to think about later.

"So you're trying to take over my soul? I already beat you once, I can do it ag-" I told him with none of the confidence I felt. The thing could read my thoughts, so I didn't know why I was bothering to talk out loud. Maybe to keep a filter on who was who. The demon in my eyes stopped abruptly and leaned closer, cutting me off mid-sentence.

_We both know you don't believe that. You think it was a fluke, the closer we get to graduation. Actually - _he paused, cocking his head, and I blinked, resting in the warmth of the blackness of my own mind for a few seconds before I went back to studying my eyes, and the red tinted demon inside of them, in the mirror. _- not even a fluke. Just the fact that Maka was there made it possible. Like a miracle to a believer, it will happen if God is present. _The demon cackled, swinging his huge hands side to side, the horns on his head glistening as he giggled to himself softly. _Oh, I'm not here for your soul. It's far too late for that. I'm part of it now. I'm here to drive you insane, piece by twisted piece, until _you_ can't take it anymore. And then I'll get to see what's next._

I swallowed, jerking my eyes away from the mirror. I couldn't stand to look at that sadistic grin for one more second, knew that doing so wouldn't prove anything to either of us. "What if there's nothing? For both of us?" I whispered. The demon was silent for a long time. Just… silent. I rolled my shoulders back, trying to release the tension, but it only seemed to make it build. "So what if there's nothing?" I screamed, and the demon cackled.

_Then I get to talk to you forever. _

_Just._

_Like._

_This._

_**Author's Note: Anyone know the song? I'll give you a hint: Seether. Good news is… I have the next couple chapters written along with this one, so writer's block is over and it's the summer! Bad news: You might hate me forever when I put them out, because the characters did that darned thing where they decided things on their own. **_


	14. Ignore it and work like the Dickens

"Soul!" Shay's voice, but I'm pretty sure it's not her banging on the door. I've heard her bang on doors. It's much louder. Scarier. Like all of hell is about to break loose and that inch of wood is the only thing protecting you from it. "Soul, you have three seconds to open this -"

The doorknob opened with a click and I was really, really glad that I'd put on some pants before I started checking myself out in the mirror. I was sort of surprised they hadn't just kicked it in.

"God, I love butter knives." Shay said, waving one of the said silver instruments excellent for slathering bread in multiple opaque liquids in the air as she strutted into the room, her short heels clacking against the floor. Her hand was thoughtfully wrapped around her eyes as she stopped, a couple feet in front of the shower. "Great for picking locks, you know."

Maka burst in after her, not too worried about being scarred for life - she sees me almost naked on a daily basis, since any reflection in a weapon is just the person who turns into the weapon themselves. "What's going on? Are you okay?" she asked, her voice high.

I faked a smile, hoping she would mistake the stench of fear (also known as sweat) that covered my body for water. "Yeah, I'm fine."

Shay peeled her fingers off her eyes one by one, warily. "Are you sure? Bloody, I know demon-weapons are supposed to be a little off or whatever, but sane people don't yell to themselves in the middle of the bathroom."

I opened my mouth to protest again, with what shitty excuse I'm not sure. Maka cut me off with a glare that could slice through steel, wiping away the eye crap as she answered Shay. "No, he's most definitely not alright." she breathed in shakily, licking her lips as she stared up at the ceiling before she turned back to face me, light green eyes hidden by her bangs as she spoke, soft and low. "Is it back? Is he back, Soul?"

She wasn't supposed to figure it out this fast.

Not Maka - definitely not Maka - she was supposed to be stubborn, and amazingly smart, and… what's the word? Obtuse? She was supposed to stay safe, and far away from this while I figured out how to deal with it. "No." I said, impulsively, shaking my head. My eyes flicked back and forth between Shay and Maka. "No, he's not back."

Maka stared deep into my eyes for a long moment before she turned away, facing the empty hallway. "We'd better get going soon, then." she told me tightly. I knew, deep down, that she didn't believe me. She knew that I had lied, and I didn't know what that was doing to her. But it couldn't be pretty. Her tan hair disappeared into the corridor and I bit back the part of me that wanted to tell her everything viciously. She didn't need to know this yet.

A hollow click made me snap my head back, and Shay stuck her tongue out at me in retaliation. "Not cool." she whispered to me before shutting the door with her foot and leaning against it as if Maka had super hearing or something. She gave me a searching look before continuing in a normal tone. "Spill, who is this guy."

I laughed, the sound so fake it almost hurt, shrugging my shoulders as I grabbed the shirt crumpled on top of the toilet seat, yanking it over my shoulders so quickly that I actually put it on backwards. "It's really not all that important, Shay, it's not like he's -"

"Remember when we were eleven and we went to the Bahamas?" Shay asked, raking a hand back through her carefully styled hair. She didn't leave me a pause to answer, not that she needed to - it would have been the best trip of my life if my family hadn't been there. Because she was there, it was the best trip of my life. At least until Maka and I had to go to Italy - yes, mock me as you will, but I got to show her how much I cared about her even if my heart was nearly transplanted onto the church floor. And the pasta wasn't half bad either. "I asked you when we were walking after Wes' banquet if your dad gave you all those bruises, and you said no. Even after everything I've seen." Shay shakes her head, at my obvious stupidity. "Your toes curl when you lie."

I took in a harsh breath, and then another, the world narrowing to Shay's face. God. All those years, such an obvious thing, she could have known everything. "What else?" I say raggedly, grasping the sink for support. My eyes must look like hell right now.

Shay isn't scared. She isn't even intimidated. "Not much. You wore sneakers most of the time and as curious as I am anytime I'd look there'd be this overwhelming surge of guilt screaming at me, going, what if this was me? But Soul… I mean, I think that this is important. We're not just some side characters in your life, to drop off meaningful nuggets of advice, right?" Shay asked, her voice intense as she leaned forward, placing her hand on the sink. "Me and Maka, we need to know things. I'm a bitch. I've got that by now. But bitches get things done. And Maka's a nice girl, nice enough not to stand here and point out that you're lying. So she isn't going to get anything done if she just lets you drive yourself insane over whoever this guy is." Her eyes are intense, way too intense, way too close. All of her, way too close. There's a voice inside, and I'm not sure who's it is, mine or the demon's, it's so quiet, and it's telling me I should kiss her.

I swallow and pull back, straightening the backwards shirt. It's not the new one, that's in the living room with the rest of my clothes. I should have brought those with me, but hell, it's a good excuse to leave now. "I've… I've gotta go get my clothes." I choke out, pushing past her shoulder, feeling the hairs on my arm electrify as I squeeze through the tiny bathroom. Her face in that last instant - I don't know how to describe it. Let's stick with resigned.

Fuck. Just - just fuck.

I slouch into the living room, wishing I could punch something into little tiny pieces until everything made sense again. I loved Maka. I knew I loved Maka. Beyond the shadow of a doubt. I once had a dream - I kid you not - that I was picking out save the date cards with her. Of course, we were also on our honeymoon and then every time I'd go to kiss her Kid would show us this year's 'newest **SYMMETRICAL** selection' so it was more of a really frustrating nightmare.

But Shay - I'd loved Shay once upon a time, too. A really long time ago, and maybe if I'd stayed things would have turned out differently. I snorted as I picked up my clothes from the coffee table, shaking out the wrinkles from my red Asian shirt. Like hell. It would be the exact same thing as here except Shay dated - hell x24. And there was definitely something there, something physical and intense and that I really could do without.

So what the hell was I supposed to do?

Well. There was exactly one, and only one proven solution for a situation such as this.

Ignore it and work like the Dickens.

* * *

We got a ride from Liz. Apparently Liz had been giving Shay rides to the public high school since she'd moved here, since it was on the way and everything. Shay would be spending most of this morning in entrance exams, to make sure that she had what it took. I was pretty sure she would do okay, especially in the strength category. The other thing that she would kill in, that was important mostly for meisters, was the fighting. If you failed that - say, curled into the fetal position and screamed like a baby - you didn't get in, or at the very least didn't get any financial aid. I'd always felt kind of bad for Oxford, but he's come a long way since.

"The only part I'm worried about for you is the running," I instructed Shay sagely from the back seat where Maka was still giving me the cold shoulder. Since we'd got in she'd just let the wind whip through her hair, staring out the side of the car.

Shay gave me the look that could stop a blizzard.

"I'm serious! You always had the lowest times in elementa-" I protested.

"That's because you were all freakishly fast," she mumbled, sliding down in her seat. "Besides, I have runner's knee."

My mouth dropped open. "You're kidding me. How can you get runner's knee if you never run?"

"Do you even know what it is?" Shay snapped, her face suddenly about two inches from mine. I pulled back quickly, gulping before I realized that practically shoved me into Maka's neck. Was nowhere safe? Maka gave me a slight look of distaste before going back to her window gazing, and I realized she was still pissed at me for lying to her about the demon. Pissed enough to not pull out a Maka chop even though I was almost necking her.

"Uh, well, not exactly -" I muttered, staring out the front window as determinedly as I could.

"When a girl gets hips, the muscle on the inside of the knee isn't strong enough or something like that because they come in awkwardly." Shay said, relaxing back in her seat now that she'd made her point, the belt snapping back with a_ thwap_. "Maka's lucky, she never has to worry about anything like that."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Maka said, her voice low and dangerous.

Shay, please don't get yourself killed.

Shay flipped her hair, her voice breezy and slightly envious. I don't think she noticed that by flipping her hair in a convertible, she allowed it to whack us in the faces continually with the aid of the wind. Why the fuck did she keep it so long? "Your figure! I bet you could eat a freaking cow, your metabolism is so high. Because you're so slim, you're probably terrific at all sorts of stuff like swimming and running." I heard, muffled by strands of long red hair that I fought off me.

"Did you just call me a freaking cow?" Maka yelled, and I realized that she had received the brunt of Shay's hair. I hurriedly pulled it off her and shoved it at Shay, who took it with a half surprised, half apologetic expression. I wished she hadn't brought up Maka's weight. It was possibly one of Maka's worst insecurities, not that my constant teasing helped anything.

"What?" Shay asked with a dumb look on her face.

"NO." I assured Maka, gripping her shoulder as she alternated between glaring at me and Shay. "She said some really great things about you, actually. Nice things. Beautiful thi - Liz, is that the school exam area?" I called up gratefully - and loudly - as Maka frowned, still unsure of what to believe.

"Yeah, this is it." Liz said, and I suddenly realized what a great help she had been on the ride over. Really eased things up on me. These two were her friends too, you know, I thought viciously in the blond's direction before I realized she was wearing earbuds, her head bouncing in time to the music. At least someone got to block life out and have a good time, I thought with a sigh as I slumped down in my seat, staring at the gray mats lining the bottom of the car.

"So we're driving, and we're driving, and…. Stop." Shay said stiffly, and I laughed, imagining her doing tours of the DWMA in her mid-thirties, gray pencil skirt inappropriately short for the occasion, fake glasses ridiculously huge.

Maka practically threw herself out of the car, looking confused and angry and a little hurt. I sighed, deeply, and got out after her, shutting the door to Liz's car gently. I didn't even know how to begin to deal with this one.

"God, those legs." Shay said, her voice dreamy. I glanced over my shoulder at her, and her face halted me in my tracks.

"Must. Not. Comment." I said in a strained tone. I wouldn't say it was… lust, in her eyes. But it damn near looked like it.

Shay laughed and snapped out of her trance. "Come on, I would kill to have those legs. I have a total girl crush on Maka's body - she's like, perfect."

I leaned against the side of the car and watched Maka the way Shay was. Just standing there, letting the wind whip her plaid skirt around, head tilted into the wind so that her hair wouldn't get into her face. Finally, she cracked, and kicked the climbing wall with one skinny leg so hard that I could swear I saw a bit of brick fly off in our direction.

"Yeah." I said, grinning a little. "I guess that's one way to put it."

**AN:** _First, and most importantly, this is still a Soul x Maka fanfic. That being said….Don't hate Shay! Please! I love Shay! She's not a man stealer! Soul still loves Maka! Everything works out in the end (or does it?)! Etc. Etc. And then…. I'd like to sincerely apologize for never updating. It's no excuse, but I've been really depressed and suicidal (ok, maybe it is an excuse) but no worries because Prozac is my best friend! I am now human again, and I hope it stays that way._


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